THE BALLOON BOY
Unforgettable smile of the balloon boy…
I was busy unwrapping the ice cream pack when I noticed a little boy almost eight years old staring at me. I was on my motorbike.
‘Do you want this?’ I asked him as I noticed that his blue eyes were hooked on the ice cream in my hand. He was carrying balloons in his hands.
‘Yes’, he replied with a cute smile.
A simple look at him and asking him if he wanted an ice cream had lit up his face bright. He had the most adorable smile. Kids like him can be found in most public places in India. They either sell balloons and other stuff or beg for food. Most people usually shoo them away. Hence, it was a pleasant surprise for the kid when I asked him if he wanted an ice cream.
‘Will you also buy the balloon?’ he asked innocently.
‘I don’t need the balloon. You sell it to someone else’, I replied.
‘Which one do you want?’ I asked him, pointing towards the ice cream chart on the cart.
‘That one’, he said, pointing towards a cup.
‘Give him two’, I told the ice cream guy who looked at me quietly.
‘Didn’t you hear me? Give him two ice creams’, I repeated.
‘Sir, they are always roaming around and begging’, he said.
‘I don’t care! Just give him two ice cream cups immediately!’ I said in a stern voice, getting off my motorbike.
Every day I used to stop at the Shiv Murti crossing in old Gurugram near the Dhobi Ghat area while coming back from the office. This was my daily routine as this place was full of mouth-watering and yummy street food carts. If you ever cross this area, then do try the Rajma Chawal here during lunchtime.
The kid took the ice cream cups with joy. I can never forget his smile and his pretty eyes. He had the most beautiful bluish eyes with fair skin covered in dust. He had partially brown hair and looked like a lost firangi (Western) kid. His clothes were ragged with a dirty sling bag dangling on his shoulders and a bunch of balloons in his hand. The sling bag almost touched the ground as the length of the bag was more than his height. He quickly finished the first cup and licked it. But he didn’t open the second cup. I was surprised. He just stood there looking around.
‘What happened? Eat it as well’, I said.
‘This one is for my friend’, he replied with an innocent smile.
‘If innocence had a face then it would be the face of this boy’, I thought while looking at his face lit up with joy.
‘What’s your name? And how many friends do you have?’ I asked softly.
‘My name is Anmol and’, he paused and counted on his fingers and then looked at me.
‘And I have four friends’, he said, showing me his hand with four fingers while covering his thumb with the other hand.
‘Will they all share just one cup?’ I asked.
He looked back at me and began thinking. I was falling in love with his innocence.
‘I wish I could adopt him’, I thought.
I reminded myself that my adoption application was already on hold because of my age and singleton. So, adoption was out of the question. I wanted to adopt a kid during those days. I was only 24 or 25 years old by then.
‘Why don’t you find your friends and bring them here’, I said.
He ran away in search of his friends even before he could listen to me properly. He came back after a few minutes with four kids, all of them carrying balloons. One among them was a girl hiding behind them, wondering if I would give her an ice cream cup or not. The first kid ate the second cup and others looked at me and then at him. As he finished the cup and licked it. He looked up and found others staring at him. He felt awkward and then looked at me.
I smiled, ‘one cup for all if you tell me your names’, I said while looking at the girl.
‘Four more cups!’ I shouted happily as I looked at the ice cream vendor.
This time he was more receptive to what I said and he immediately opened the freezer to find the cups.
‘Five!’ said someone.
The ice cream guy and I looked at the group. It was the balloon boy who had said this with his hand raised in the air.
‘Five!’ he said again in a low voice as I looked at him.
He slowly brought his hand down and looked at his feet with his hands behind him. He played with the dirt on the ground with his face down and tried to act as if he was feeling awkward and then he looked up.
‘Who can say no to this face?’ I thought.
‘Five it is’, I said with a smile as the balloon boy looked at me with his pretty smile and dreamy blue eyes. He rushed in and quickly took one cup.
‘Anmol’, the tallest of them said cheerfully. He stayed back and let other kids move upfront.
‘Hello, Anmol! You too are Anmol?’ I asked while looking at the tallest kid.
‘He is bada (elder) Anmol, and I am chota (younger) Anmol’, the balloon boy said adorably while pointing towards the other Anmol.
The ice cream guy kept the cups on the cart.
‘My name is Golu’, said the chubby kid.
‘Hello, Golu!’ I said, shaking hands with him and giving him a cup.
‘My name is Jeetu’, said the next kid.
‘Hello, Jeetu!’ I said, shaking hands with him as well.
‘Did you know that Jeetu is the nickname of famous actor Jitendra?’ I asked while giving him the cup.
‘Don’t know who that is’, he replied, innocently taking the cup.
‘My name is Gudiya’, the girl said soberly.
‘Hello, Gudiya!’ I said as she stood behind bada Anmol trying to hide.
Gudiya means doll and she looked like one.
‘Come. Don’t be afraid’, I said as I picked up the cup from the cart.
The girl slowly walked towards me and I passed her the cup. She took it and joyfully gulped the ice cream in no time. Now, it was bada Anmol’s turn and he walked towards me confidently. He was the eldest of them all.
‘Are you their big brother?’ I asked while giving him the cup.
‘Yes’, he replied confidently. Indeed, like a big brother he waited till the last to get the cup.
‘Take good care of them’, I said as I looked at them while they were enjoying their ice cream.
‘Come here tomorrow at the same time and I will bring some clothes and candies for you’, I said.
They looked at me with a cute smile. Their smiles were contagious and I smiled through the night while thinking about them. Indeed, these kids had the most amazing smiles, especially the balloon boy, chota Anmol. The next day, I carried some clothes for them in my bag and went to my office. When I returned in the evening, I was filled with joy as I thought about those pretty faces and unforgettable smiles. I reached the crossing near Dhobi Ghat and parked my motorbike. I looked around but couldn’t see any kid. I went to the same ice cream cart to enquire about them. The guy smiled as he saw me.
‘How much would it be today, sir?’ he asked joyfully.
‘Ten today if you can tell me where those balloon kids are,’
‘They are part of a nomadic group, sir. They keep moving from one city to another. The police had come in the afternoon and evicted them from the roadside. They may have gone towards the railway station’, he said, pointing towards the street leading towards New Colony.
I noticed that the makeshift tents from the roadside had vanished. I bought ten cups of ice cream and looked around for those kids in the nomadic camps around the railway road but couldn’t find them. Since the ice cream was melting, I gave the cups to the kids in a camp near the railway station and distributed the clothes. Every day I stopped at the same crossing while returning from the office but never found those kids again. I couldn’t forget their innocent faces and precious smiles. Chota Anmol’s smile had a profound impact on me.
From that day onwards, I carried one thing which I didn’t need to give to someone in these nomadic camps. As I searched for the balloon boy every day, I learnt a valuable life lesson that people might forget your face, your name and maybe even your good deeds, but they will surely remember your smile.
It is said that a smile is worth a thousand words. And the balloon boy’s smile did give me a story worth more than a thousand words.
We should help the street kids and anyone else in need. Even if you can help one that will surely make a huge difference in their lives.
If this story made you smile, then my job is done…
*This story will also feature in my upcoming book, ‘Ensemble — a collection of short stories & essays’.
Originally published at https://socialist-today.com.
