When we are young, we live with our dreams. Untouched by apprehensions and the fear that our dreams might not come true. Perhaps we place our dreams in our shirt pockets close to our hearts, holding them close with grubby, sticky, sweaty hands... smothering them with hope and infinite optimism. We live for our dreams because, when young, there is no way that our dreams cannot come true.

Take a walk down one of its streets and you get the quintessence of Bangalore; pause a while at one of its traffic signal and you get the essence of life. In a day scores of people go past multitudes of traffic signals scattered all over the city, sitting in their vehicles impatiently waiting to get going. Though this waiting lasts but a few minutes it feels like a lifetime to them. However there thrives an industry that derives its livelihood from the people waiting at the traffic signals. Tired, bored commuters taking no heed, each one lost in thought, till the time you are besieged by the beggar brigade. The work force of this industry is not less than that of an average sized multinational. It comprises of a gamut of people thrown in together by fate or hunger. There are oddities to the likes of eunuchs, handicapped and impaired beggars, lepers, street kids, drug addicts, and prostitutes.

It is always heart wrenching to watch the young ones begging with dour, pitiful expressions on their tiny faces and vending knick-knacks; anything from flowers, fruits, sunscreens to sunglasses. Perpetually looking spent, malnourished and with no hope for the future. Mothers lugging tiny babies in hand which is an incentive as it arouses public sympathy. I have heard horror stories of babies being stolen from government hospitals by these women. The babies are apparently drugged to sleep, not to create a nuisance when the mother is begging with the baby in arms for hours at a stretch. What a sad beginning to an innocent young life, what a gory picture of the world he/ she is born into.

Then I hit upon a novel idea, every evening when I leave office, I pick up a few goodies, biscuits, chocolates and the like which I handout to the children (only) at the traffic signal. It is such a delight to see their expressions oscillate from doubt to surprise to delight. I remember one particular instance when I handed over a bar of 5 Star chocolate to a little boy, he grabbed it and made a quick dash to the pavement where his mother was seated with his two siblings, quickly put the bar of chocolate in his mother's hands and was back at his original spot begging, to hasten and grab the last few donors before the signal changed and the vehicles sped away. My demeanor towards these street urchins did a volte face that day and needless to say I was extremely moved by the little boy's diligence. Now I have decided to move to healthier food options, since I believe putting a few rupees in the child's hand can be misused.

Yet it doesn't end there. There is an intriguing world lurking behind all the poverty seen at these traffic signals. Each signal is said to have a manager who collects a certain percentage of the day's revenue from each of those working at the signal. The pecking order broadens further and each manager is supposed to hand over his weekly collection to the person who is in charge of the region that covers a dozen or more signals. The ladder is raised in its hierarchy and the collector of each region deposits the money with the local king pin.

What troubles me the most is that circumstances take away the possibility for a child to realize his dream! And frankly, what is childhood without dreams? Imagine waking up each morning thinking about how to fetch your first meal or where to sleep the coming night. Have you ever stopped to think how it would be if you had to fight for basic existence. Bangalore's streets harbour several such desolate kids who do not know how it is to have a life with safe shelter, warm clothes and basic food. More often than not, these kids are orphans and have no means to support themselves. This is where child labour comes in. Employers cash in on this factor and use these sturdy little hands for several purposes in return for shelter, food and basic money.

Every child should be able to dream. Every child. So the next time you shoo them away, think of how you can make at least a little difference in the child's life.