Let us all be Robins!

“My name’s Seeta”, she smiled with hopeful eyes while she took my hand and shook it with her chapped dry hands, as if they were to wither if I held them more firmly. She had half bitten nails that seemed unwashed for days. A 7 year old Seeta carried a baby of whom when I asked the name she replied proudly, “Kulsoom”.

The ramshackled place was filled to its brim with unclothed, sun burnt, dirty, hungry and helpless children of which Seeta was one, dressed in tattered clothes whose colour were unidentifiable for the variety of shades it had and the number of weathers it had borne. While she held my hand, the baby Kulsoom smiled at me and tried to reach for my arms but I couldn’t make myself hold that poor dirty unclothed child…

I felt ashamed of myself. It was a moment of deep reflection for me for I couldn’t hold a child who wasn’t clean enough for me, who wasn’t clothed like my own, all the while knowing well that there was no difference between Kulsoom and Ali Asghar, both were born the same way and will not die a different death. The only difference being that Kulsoom was underprivileged and Ali Asghar was blessed with the privileges of the world. She deserved to be consoled more, she deserved to be held by strong hands but alas my hands which apparently seemed to be too clean and my dress devoid of dirt, I was unable to carry little Kulsoom in my arms. I felt embarrassed as if someone had exposed to me my reality, the selfish person I could be and especially the short sightedness in me ! All I could make myself do was clap and cheer them without getting comfortable with any of them who were actually the same of my kind…

Around us were thatched houses which held in them amenities so meagre, that it could hardly ensure the people in the area a single time’s meal. The stench around of human waste and filth could hardly be ignored. Those who witnessed the area for the first time, seemed out of place, confused and spell bound for what they saw seemed beyond their comprehension. Nevertheless we stood and carried out our assigned tasks while stealing furtive glances at various faces carrying the signs of the cruelties, life had burdened them with in their very tender ages.

Like herd of cattle the children were managed with sticks by their caretakers to remain seated on the scorching hot earth and wait for their turn to receive basic amenities which included a pack of juice, a samosa, a banana, a cup cake and a pack of crisps. Those things that all of us and our kids take so much for granted were cherished like prized possessions by these poverty-stricken children.

‘Eye-opening’ is what in a single word the experience was! The brilliance with which the Robinhood Army manages the entire affair is extraordinary. With every stepped planned of interaction, assembling and distribution of food, the Robins as their name suggests, selflessly and tirelessly work for ensuring that these amenities reach the most fairly and lovingly. Smiling faces and patient gestures, the Robins display values of humanity, and definitely set standards for all those who wish to serve humanity.

Kudos to the Robinhood Army!

Inspired,

Xeynab