I went to the parking space where there was a little, indeed just a little, room alloted to the family of a man who was appointed to look after the whole complex throughout the day & night. He had a pregnant wife, and 2 daughters. I usually talk with those two dolls who actually don’t even understand my language.
Today, both of them were not there. I saw their mother and casually asked about her kids.
She broke into tears. All i could understand out of what she said sobbingly, was that their younger daughter was missing. She was not even 3 & i knew it well that she was not good at the local language.
I asked her to contact nearby police station. She said her husband went to them. Police asked that baby’s name. The father said, ‘I call her chhoti, her mother calls her Munni.’
The child had No name,No identity.
I felt so helpless. How could you find a child who has no name per say.
Fortunately, they found the girl from the next society where she reached by mistake & couldn’t find her way back to home.
This incidence forced me to worry about all those street kids who have No Name, No identity, No Rights, No Future.
There are plenty!
For this particular family, what i thought was, all the complexes which hire these people to work, the owner has to take the responsibility.
The owner has to provide all the family members with the identity cards, though not a legal one, but it must contain their name, DOB, address, & a photo. So in a situation of crisis, atleast they have some identity of their own.
Every commercial complex will provide one family & their kids with the identity, & by this process those illiterate people will learn the sensitivity of having an identity.
One person may not come up to help many, but it will be practically easier to help just one family for one person.
Gigantic problems need more of practical solutions than emotional.