Little Girls

The children of the station are playing. They have new friends which the arrival of the monsoon has brought. They have a playground at the end of the platform. It has moving trains which if you hold on to will carry you along and slide you down the concrete towards the railway tracks. The sliding children are mainly little girls. Maybe five. Maybe six years young. With faces too old and bodies too small. They brothers are working, or sniffing, or running. They see a Magic Man but they don't know he is a Magic Man. They just see a white man with a bag of food. Play time is put on hold as they begin their work:“Uncle Uncle!” They cry. Hands reaching for his hands and for his arms. Little brown eyes hungry for biscuits and bananas. But there are too many of them. He knows that the biscuits and bananas inside his 'magic' bag are too few. In the anarchy of the station they would be fought for and he does not want to create war. A little sister totters along and tries to reach her hand inside the 'magic' bag. In her couple of years of life she has learned to try and take what won't be given. But Magic Man remains strong and he lifts the bag out of the little hungry hands reach. Magic Man wishes he had a hundred bananas and biscuits. But his Magic skills are limited to making little people laugh and not curing their hunger. He continues to walk but the little hands become more determined. The little hands are now firmly attached to his tightly closed palms, trying to pry them open. They will not be defeated. They do not want this walking pot of money and food to walk away. “Uncle Uncle!” They smile and giggle and run along. “Hotel Uncle?” They ask.