Her name was Mooni

Her name was Mooni



It was pleasant Saturday evening, when I took out my camera to capture the beautiful natural scenery that Nariman Point had to offer, beautiful palms trees growing all along the road, presenting a picturesque view and a nice walkway to take a stroll.  I had zoomed my camera lenses focusing on the palm trees the beautiful golden red sun seemed to be emerging as a ball out of the branches suddenly my concentration was abruptly disturbed by a voice behind my back, “madam, are you a photographer?”.

She was a small girl, about 11 years old, wearing a coloured top and self coloured skirt. She wore a distinctive smile that would attract any bystander and she seemed very curious to learn. I paused for a while before I responded to her question, “yes” was my reply. At once she told me to take a picture of her standing by the palm tree, the camera captured the innocence of little girl along with the setting of the sun. She was filled with questions for me and I wanted to move away from her as fast as I could but something was holding me onto her, it was her innocence.



“What do you do with all those photos you have collected?”



“Why do you love taking photos?”



“Do you get lot of money for these photos?”



“Can I learn to take photos and make money like you”,



She was matured for her age, which led me to ask her about herself, she smiled as she answered my questions without hesitation; she had studied till 6th class in a primary school and was currently working with her father on the construction site. Her mother a housewife worked along with her father in lifting the debris and was also responsible to prepare the food every afternoon and night. As the evening draws to close the family gather together and count the money that they earn barely enough to buy a morsel, once done they collect their belongings and head towards the slums. As she narrated, I wondered how much courage this young girl has to have each day because of the responsibilities she had to fulfill.



We spent quite a long time talking together; she wanted to share her ideas to me, which was unique yet original



She asked me, “what is the most beautiful photo that can be captured on my camera?’

I was baffled by her reply.



“Mother’s smile, while she is working in the hot sun”



She suggested me to come to her place because no one wanted to take pictures of poor people, who worked everyday in starvation yet had a smile to cover the sweat and pain that they endure.



I curiously asked her a question,” What would you want to be when you grow up?”



Without any hesitation, “If god gives me a chance I want to change this world, I would want to be someone like Gandhi or Mother Theresa”



I asked her, “why not a doctor or an engineer?”



She replied very intelligently,” If I had that much money to be a doctor or an engineer. I would have not been here, madam!”



I had advised her to leave, as her parents might be on a look for her. So she left saying she would meet me again tomorrow same time for more pictures of her.  Before she left she told me her name, “Mooni!!”



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It was a day which I would never forget, still trying hard to face the fact that I met a child so young and innocent who was filled with courage to face the difficulties in her life.  I had felt that I was all alone facing the world with problems, my marriage was a complete failure, and my in-laws never ceased their demands and continued harassing me eventually I took a stand and filed for a divorce and then my own parents refused to take me back with them.

I had completed my graduation in Mass Media and was good enough to get a job in a reputed advertising firm. But I was fond of photography so I used to work as a photographer for a reputed magazine; I have learnt that I have to take up each day as it comes. But Mooni on the other hand showed a picture of a courageous young girl who needed some guidance and care to nurture her future.



I met her quite regularly in the coming weeks, she used to ask me several questions regarding my field and in turn I would ask her about her family. I felt that I needed to give her support especially for studies, I advised her to join the public school and I would pay the fees as long as she completed her studies. She insisted on night school which was ideal time since her father use to go out with his friends’ everyday after work.



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In the coming weeks I would pay her a visit at her school, where I was content watching her studying with the other kids, but as the weeks passed by I saw a disturbed look painted on her face, I was curious to know the reason behind it so I decided to stop and ask her one fine day.



“What’s bothering you, Mooni?”



“My father he drinks too much!!”



“Don’t let this bother you”



“But it bothers me madam, he hits my mother and my little brother”



“Mooni I wish I could put a stop to it, but all I can say is have courage god is always there with you”,



“I don’t know if god is looking down here because it stinks, where I stay?”



“He looks at you all the time that is why he sent me”,



“Madam, honestly I would not hesitate to hit him if he persists his behavior”



“You are not only courageous but very hot tempered too, Mooni”



“Yes my dad beats me if I come late from school, yesterday when my mother came to protect me he hit her with a stick, I was not crying madam but my mother was, and I wanted to put the burning coal in his pants, but I did not have the courage to do so, he kicked me to the corner and walked away.”



“Madam I don’t want to see my mother in tears she is all I want to see when I come from work”.



Holding my breathe for a while I consulted her, “In time everything will be fine”,

Mooni left without uttering a word.



I couldn’t say anything else, I had just words of caring for her and I could not promise a house for her mother and her siblings. I wanted to take her from the suffering that she was going through, but I left it all in the hands of god.





Two days had past, and I did not see Mooni for her evening lectures. I felt I had hurt her feeling; I was only trying to do as much as I could. Next day I withdrew some money from my bank and kept it in my favorite purse that I used to carry everyday and walked to the shanty town where Mooni use to reside.  It was hot afternoon as I walked on the road completely filled with garbage, children playing in unhygienic conditions, as the people giggled watching me walk on the huge water pipe which was surrounded by garbage on either sides, it was the place where Mooni had brought me on one Sunday afternoon, I could hardly forget the directions since it has been imprinted on my mind forever.





To my worse fear I saw crowd gathered outside her place, couple of constables was slapping her furiously and she was yelling at tip of her voice and the crowd just watched her helplessly.  I was not one of them who would put my head down and watch someone hit Mooni so mercilessly.  I ran towards the constable and pulled her away from them.



I shouted at the constables, “What are you doing? Have you any feelings for this child whom you are beating so mercilessly?



“Excuse me madam, we are just doing our duties, ask her where was she for two days after she killed her father?”



With ghastly look on my face I asked her, “Why Mooni? What happened?”



Mooni had tears in her eyes as she confessed to me, “Madam, I will not run away from my mother’s murderer.”



“My father hit her with iron rod furiously while she wanted to protect me from getting beaten up once again by him; I waited for that moment when he returned late night I trounced on him with same rod breaking his head and ran away,what mistake did my mother do?”



“Only she loved me and wanted to protect me”



I grabbed her to my bosom, as tears rolled out of me.



“Madam, I did run away, but I came back today, incase if you had turned up here in search of me but these constables caught hold of me,”



I let out a heavy sigh and spoke with courage, “Mooni be free!!! Don’t let this world entrap you ever, grab my purse and run like you have never ran before and don’t ever turn back.”



I stood up and turned to the constables, trying to explain them that the child needed counseling and not physical torture. As I distracted them I was surprised to know that Mooni had already fled without my knowledge.





I knew that this was the moment I yelled, “I have been dipped by a child whom I wanted to help”. Hearing this one of constable ran expecting he would catch Mooni, but she had already outwitted the constable as she was no stranger to the locality unlike the constable



The other constable stayed behind and interrogated me “did you know that girl?”



“No, I came here to photograph the slums, but I could not bear myself watching while you beat up a child”



“She is a criminal and supporting a crime is a crime. Madam Hope we don’t require you in our police station.”



“Well I work for the press I think your seniors should know about the way you handled a child, not only your seniors but the world around you should be aware of the treatment that you have given to a child”.



The constable dispels the crowd.



“I think you wont be required, madam”.



“I already know it”.



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It’s been six years since that day I last saw Mooni. Now I am working as Senior Photographer for National Geographic magazine and have my own advertisement agency in Mumbai, but I stay here in Goa with my adopted child I named Maliha meaning strong and beautiful. In her eyes I watch a bright future which I wanted to offer to Mooni. How I wonder what happen to her?





Suddenly there was a loud knock on the door which was answered by Maliha; she brought along with her an envelope.



“Maliha, what is it?



“Its seems to be a letter address to you, mom”



“Let me see”



I opened it up. In there were ten notes of five hundred neatly kept along with my credit cards wrapped in the paper which wrote:” Thank you, Madam for all you have done, I got your address from your diary in the purse, I collected the money from my job which I do along with my studies. I have completed my secondary school. I want to grow up and become just like you – a photographer.”









p.s: I am keeping your favorite purse to give you someday when I meet you.



Love,

Mooni