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On a bright and busy morning at a Calcutta railway station, a ragged little boy pushed his way through the throng alighting from the local train. He was almost through the gate when a railway policeman grabbed him and carried him off to the guard room. There he was mercilessly beaten and relieved of the goods he had stolen.
It was not the first time he had been caught, and his little body trembled at the thought of the greater punishment that awaited him at the hands of the gang leaders. He would give anything to escape from the nightmare he was living. It had begun when he left home in a fit of anger at being punished for a childish prank. He now regretted his bravado, but it was too late. He could hardly remember his family, let alone their address. And with the depigmented, insensitized patch on his body, they would not take him back anyway. He was destined to live this life of petty crime, with all its paralyzing moments of pain and fear.
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