Day 118: Working Children

So many children working everyday everywhere. I first noticed this years ago, in places closer to the rural areas. I’d see kids in school uniforms, I’d ask them about school. They’d respond with a, “I already went” or “I’m about to go” or “I’m doing some schoolwork right now”.

I wouldn’t exactly believe them, but some did seem believable.

But it was more than that. The younger the kid, the less rehearsed the answer. They’d just blurt it out, “My mom’s working elsewhere. So I need to look after the shop today. School’ll be fine.”

Recently, I noticed it in Bengaluru. Near my house. And then I started to see it in more than just one place.

When I was a kid, going to school myself and encountering these instances wherein I’d ask these other kids about their school situations, I felt like I Was in the right. Like I knew exactly what was right and what was wrong.

I used to think the kids were being exploited, which of course is a very real possibility which might be the case in most instances. But the older I grow and the more kids I talk to, I think I see it with a wider lens. Not just the one of privilege. Maybe I’m wrong now, but - crucifying these parents/families for their “decisions” or “choices”, criticising the kids for their defenses or justifications - I don’t know what right I have to do that. But more than that, I don’t think I have the right solutions for the people in these situations. Maybe people do what they need to, maybe they do the best they can or maybe they don’t. Maybe they try to choose comfort - which I have witnessed. Mothers who chill out and do nothing while they make their daughters do the jobs they were hired to do. Jobs that their employers don’t want the kids doing.

Maybe if posed with a solution that worked this would altogether stop happening. But we don’t live in a perfect world and we don’t like to rack our pretty little heads to come up with workable solutions, so maybe we see it fit to impose policies that don’t work.

How do we fix these things?

This is me writing, half-asleep, in the middle of the night - I’m sorry if it’s not clear/concise or if it doesn’t make sense at all.

But I think - it does.