28th march,2006:
Some people are born lucky and epitomised as heroes while some are born deprived, who spend their entire life facing the various challenges and hardships of life without any fruits for labour.

I thought my life belonged to the second category. I thought I would just perish in the sand of time.

But life was to take a different turn. The wheel of fortune wasn't that unfair to poor people like me. How I used to ponder day and night about this life of mine.

How I used to hate it............But no matter how insignifant my life is to the world, or the petty jobs I do, but my life is as important as anyone of the achievers I admire or just anyone....because I know that I mean the world to my family and to those people who matters to me....

13th August, 1980 and .....(Another burden?): 13th?? The date itself seems inauspicious.

But a baby was born in this very own family of mine. My little hut, situated right between the lines of huts near the Loktak lake. How I used to wake up every morning with the sendra hill blocking away the morning sun........sometimes I feel no evil forces could ever harm me for I am protected on either side by the two great manifestation of nature.

I like my name, Memton because it gives me my own unique identity when it is prefixed by my surname. I was born in a big nuclear family.

I am the third sibling and my eldest sister Achaobi is the best kid in the locality ( I had always looked up upon her and till now she is the "best", atleast for me).

We are seven siblings. Ironically, the youngest being a boy. My parents are too proud of him ever since the day he was born and even went on to name him Athoiba "the winner".. How I used to feel jealous sometimes.

Sibling rivalry was not the case though. My mother and father have to go fishing by six in the morning and return back by twelve in the noon. We daughters have to finish all the household chores and cook food for everyone in the family and finish it before my parents return.

My poor parents, how they worked so hard facing the sun, the wind and the water. They have to go till Moirang Bazar to sell off the booty. Income fluctuates and depends on day to day luck.

Sometimes we had to live hand to mouth. But I wont accept that we had a hard life, and a horrible childhood days. Infact, my childhood days are filled with sweet and pleasant memories which I want to savour uptill now.

I learned to write my name in english alphabets. How proud I was! Tamo Naren had completed his graduation in one of the prestigious college in Imphal. He is our universal brother.

Every morning he would gather us, we children, and try to teach us basic alphabets and numbers. He told me that I was a fast learner and I even became more determined to learn.

I though even if my parents coudnt afford to send me to school, atleast I got a platform here to learn all that I could. But I never thought that tamo Naren would have to leave us someday for a job at Imphal.

But I am happy for him, for he had already wasted five years searching for a job. Alas! end to my education, this was what I felt deep inside. Just my luck!

But learning alphabets weren't the only memorable part of my childhood days.

We used to play khulopi right after lunch, go swimming in the Loktak lake, go for bath taking out our boats, play the whole day unaware of all the dust and dirt from the tourist vehicles on the unattended road which is our playground, do everyhing that children of our age do.

Sometimes, I feel that we are even more fortunate than those born on ivory towers because we are so in tuned with nature. We are the real children of nature, brought up by nature, with natural resistance. And we are the children of Loktak lake which is our lifeline.

I feel I had learnt swimming since the day the open my eyes to this world. Sometimes me and my sisters would catch fish and sell it, pamper ourselves with candies and chocolates, things we are often deprived of.

But happy childhood was to have a sorry ending.

This life! Our ever fluctuating income earned by our poor parents coudnt meet the demand of good many of us. My father is diabetic. I learnt that he coudnt work as hard as mother. He gets dehydrated very soon. I coudnt understand the complexity of the ailments he is suffering.

Most of the time he is bed ridden. My poor mother works too hard to feed our ever hungry stomach. I knew that one day it would be too much for her. And my fear was slowly turning to reality, unfolding...

Fear with its ugly face and merciless hands was to snatch away many things from me.

I was 12 years old then.....

To be continued ....

NOTE:
There is strong opposition against child labour in the entire world and mostly in the third world country. In our very own state manipur,there is a common practise of giving away innocent children as domestic helpers by the poor parents. Some are lucky enough to be treated as the children of the new home while some children have to face the brutality from their "new home". But even if the childrens are being adopted as the children of the new home,what about the innocence that they have to compromise with by exposing them to the various facets of life at an early age? Every one of these children have a story of their own which is as important as anyone of our life story. They are the unsung heroes who had learnt to face life"s challenges since early childhood. My story is an adaptation from the real life story of one of the domestic helper whom I know and had grown up with though the names and certain events have been slightly modified.