Shobha Ramswamy

Saathi, a non-governmental organisation supported by the Sir Ratan Tata Trust, has arranged happy homecomings for numerous lost and runaway children

The long-distance train pulls into Mumbai Central station. As passengers scramble towards the exit, a teenager with a red knapsack catches Basavraj Utthnu's attention. Seemingly alone, the boy fishes out a tiny notepad from his bag and hesitantly approaches a coolie. Intuitively, Utthnu walks towards the boy and strikes up a conversation. His name is Manik Mondal, he's 15 years old and he has come from Burdwan, West Bengal, to meet his elder brother, who works in a hotel somewhere in the sprawling metropolis.

Young Manik does not have his brother's complete address, has no money and speaks only Bengali. Fortunately for him, help is at hand. Utthnu immediately puts him at ease and assures him that he is not alone. He also calls for a Bengali translator so that the boy is reassured about his safety and his hopes of being united with his brother soon.

"It is all in a day's work," says Utthnu, an officer with the Raichur-based Sathi, or the Society for Assisting Children in Difficult Situations. Sathi helps runaway or lost children find their way home. Established in 1992, the organisation's objective is to keep children away from railway platforms by providing them with food and shelter.

Rarely do children realise the dangers that await the lone and lost on railway platforms. Generally, these children are confused, scared, insecure and uncomfortable in their new surroundings. Often, they may be found crying and huddled together in dark corners of the platform, unsure of what to do next. Even children who have run away from home sometimes lose their nerve.

Their vulnerability leads them to trust anyone who tries to befriend them. These 'friends' often morph into brokers for prostitutes or networks of beggars and child labourers. The desperate call of hunger forces these kids to take recourse to begging or sweeping trains. The more enterprising ones begin to sell newspapers, mineral water, etc, or they learn a trade, such as shining shoes. Sometimes they earn upwards of Rs 100 every day. But the constant threat of addictions to alcohol or drugs, apart from the fear of being swept into the world of crime, makes them deeply vulnerable. Caught in this web, the child's innocence is lost forever.

On an average, at least five children find their way to a big Indian railway station every day. Runaway boys far exceed girls (around five in a month). The reason for leaving home could vary from failing in a school test to fearing punishment for stealing money from parents or guardians. School-related issues are the most common excuses, but a large number of children come to the metros in search of jobs that can enable them to escape the harsh poverty of their villages. Some run away to become film stars, while others are attracted to the glitz and glamour associated with cities like Mumbai.

Connecting the length and breadth of India, trains are the easiest mode of transport for these children. "Railways give the child the freedom to alight and depart at will," says Pramod Kulkarni, secretary and founder of Sathi. "In fact, in a year a runaway can travel the whole of this country. That is why we operate only on the platforms; they are our first point of contact with the child."

Officers of the organisation patrol the platforms of Mumbai's two biggest stations (Mumbai Central and CST), Wadi, Guntakal, Mantralaya, Pune and Raichur. Over the years Sathi has united over 3,400 children with their families back home. A recent survey revealed that 82 per cent of the children who were sent home have made no second attempt to run away. "Surprisingly, even after spending years on the platform, the child yearns to go home," says Mr Kulkarni. "Truly, there is no place like home."

Conventional wisdom has it that a runaway is either an orphan or comes from a broken or neglected home. Shattering the myth, Kulkarni explains that in almost 80 per cent of the cases the child has both parents alive and comes from a regular home. "Exceptions do exist. But they are few and far between." Another busted myth is that only children from poor homes run away. In truth, about 30 per cent of runaway children come from educated, well-to-do homes.

Sathi's job isn't simply a matter of asking children for addresses and sending them back. Kids are known to lie or give incomplete addresses. In such cases the officer takes the child to Sathi's shelter, a remand home or a police station (in the absence of the first two). At the shelter or remand home, the child is not bombarded with questions. "We chat, play and relax with the child. The aim is to win the child's trust," says Vidya Dhende, superintendent of the Pune remand home.

The parents are informed through phone calls or telegrams. Occasionally, an errant child is personally escorted home by a staff member and a police constable. R. S. Kondalkar, inspector, Pune Railway Police Station, has high regard for the work that Sathi does. "There is a very thin line dividing the good from the bad on the platforms. In this context, Sathi's work assumes great importance."

Sathi spends almost Rs 2,000 to send a child home. To promote initiatives to educate out-of-school children, the Sir Ratan Tata Trust supports Sathi in its efforts to advise runaways to return home. The Trust has been partnering the organisation since 1996 and contributes over 50 per cent of its annual budget.

Every large city has its own number of runaway or lost children. Ideally, Sathi needs to expand to all metro railway stations. Towards this end, it has started partnering other non-governmental organisations like Yuva, Childline and the Don Bosco charity, among others, to bring about a synergy of efforts. As Mr Kulkarni says, "Every child needs to be at home."

Uploaded in March 2005