We are in this Musahar village. The Musahari community is one of the most marginalised community. A neglected, backward and really really poor lot. No education. No specific skill-sets. Totally dependent on the mai-baap landlord. And most probably a bonded-labour to boot, though one would not reveal it, even in whispers.
It is evening. Dusk is falling fast. The fires glow bright warming up the chilling air. Smoke billows around. And there… out there was a teensy-weensy, bright, LED light, lighting up this guy’s little shop. And we all stand around and admire the handywork of this proud father’s son, making suitable noises. Until he unwittingly reveals that it was done by his 10-year old son, who probably hasn’t gone to school !