Last year, there was a bunch of street children who played outside Mahalaxmi station.

They would chase each other and have make believe weddings. They had a variety of toys that they had made themselves. Cardboard boxes, strings, plastic bags, torn kites all found their way into the games that used to take up their days. They'd disregard traffic and the weather. They'd snigger at irate police officers and screaming adults.

Then one day, I saw them all huddled together. They were all cackling about something. It was a mobile phone. I smiled to myself about how thrilled they were. I wondered how they got it. For the few days that followed, they would peer into the phone and laugh.

Then one day, I saw a policeman yelling at them. A crowd had gathered around one of the kids and there was a commotion. Turns out, the boys were taking pictures of passing women. Although the pictures were by themselves harmless, the act was unacceptable.

I didn't see the kids after that.

A few days ago I saw one of the boys at the station. I remembered him as one of the older kids from the group. He was being slapped repeatedly by a woman for feeling her up. He said, "bhai bola karneko"

It will be rather unfortunate if there is such little hope from the future generations. I threw him a dirty look and walked past. Turns out that's all I can do.