THE BRIDGE TO ‘HUMAN’ RIGHTS
She looked up at him
He looked younger
By maybe a year
Or might be the angle
As she saw him from the dusty intercompartment of the train
It was the bridge
Between clean floors and people
The bridge people venture
Only to stick fingers over their noses
Due to the unfortunate restrooms
That is where she stays
For she didn’t have the ticket to cross the bridge
And she saw him from here
Neck crooning over the chill door
AC compartments
Cold eyes walking out as they looked at her
She was 12 but looked 8
He seemed 12 too
Well fed, clothed and smiling at the accepting world
She looked at herself
And tried to look at her like they looked at her
Like she was vermin or the scum in their feet
Before they discard it on the sidewalk
With a stain left on their faces
The moving train had moving people
The little boy had left with his parents
All of them shining like new scrubbed badges
Badges people like her scrub
Her parents cleaned the AC compartments
But not for her to sit
Her parents earn for them to drink and gamble
But not for her to learn or have a home to walk into
The train stops and she quickly walk out
The good people don’t want to see her face
While walking out into their bright new morning
She walks towards her … house?
And she kept thinking
‘what bridge do I have to cross
To leave behind the chains of my parents
For the world sees me
12 years of age
But walking on the footprints of my parents
What bridge do I have to cross?
That will untie me from my parent’s feet
To walk for myself like that little boy did
Or will I forever be latched to the bridge
Like I am between the compartments
Watching the doors open and close
My cheeks only tainted with whispers of the glorious cold.
Nandhitha Babuji is a 18-year-old aspiring poet from Tamil Nadu, passionate about using her words to show solidarity against children’s issues.
