As governments sit in heated conference rooms, sipping tea with biscuits there seems to be very little chance of giving them back their childhood…writes Bikram Vohra
Somewhere some child is having fun throwing snowballs. Another going to school to garner an education. Several others tucking in to a warm meal on a cold day. Playing a game of soccer on a proper field. Inhaling the fragrance of childhood.
Not this kid. They took away his childhood through no fault of his own. He never even got a chance.
He and several thousand others like him trapped in thin soup tents and on the rations of charity do not yell with joy when they stand in minus zero temperatures, they scream with agony at the unfairness of it all. They do not ask what’s for dinner, they quietly take what is given and with each passing day they become more forgotten people.
Even as governments sit in heated conference rooms, sipping tea with biscuits there seems to be very little chance of giving them back their childhood.
It does not matter which nation they are from. Children have no nationality and it is a long and grey winter. Indeed, some of them will perish, victims to the cold. Still others will be dragged by hopeful parents escaping one hell across hugely troubled waters or dangerously nasty terrain and entering another. Many will grow up asking why and no one will answer them because there is no answer to give.
And more are coming. Because the wars are not ending, they are widening in their scope and no one seems to care enough to spike the guns and reverse the flow of refugees.
Does it really matter who runs a country if there is no one left in it, if a whole generation is rent asunder. How is everyone so blind that they cannot see that a country soaked in blood and tears is a killing field not a country.
If you have let them in then let them in totally. You cannot have them growing up in ghettos with no lifeline to a life.
Look at him and feel the pain.