Photojournalism

My Precious

‘Precious’, a rather obvious word one could say, yet it remains a very hard one to describe. What is precious anyway? Something important, something valued. Something does not have to have a materialistic value to be precious to someone. Even a piece of junk made out of plastic or metal which once was shiny and new can be precious to someone. Little things that were once a part of a rich household; but as time passed they lost their usefulness. They are thought to be so valueless that they end up in the waste-dumping yard. But for the kids, who live in the shacks beside the dumping yard, best known as child waste pickers, it’s a different story. In midst of tons of rotting garbage, where the smell in the air reminds somebody of a nasty nightmare; these kids conduct their treasure hunt. Sometimes they anxiously awaits their parents return from work, they spend moments in anticipation about what they are going to find today. And at last when they finally unveil the treasure no matter how insignificant, how unimportant the object is to the rest of world, their eyes reflect divine happiness and gratitude. All the dents, stains and missing parts do not diminish the appeal of their precious treasure. To them its beauty and appeal is divine regardless it’s just a piece of junk somebody threw away. Somebody who used to own it found it so useless that it was thrown into the garbage. But to the kids it is a divine blessing, an object of desire; to them it is a precious treasure. They take it in their hands, clutch it and cherish it as a divine blessing, an object of desire; to them it is a precious treasure.

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