Have you ever stopped to consider the nursery rhymes we all learn as kids? The lyrics seem nonsensical and fun enough, until you spend some time actually contemplating them. As I’ve recited (over and over again) some of the most common rhymes to Arav from the book he loves playing with, I’ve been thinking about the dark subtext to these rhymes. Here’s what I see:

• Ring Around The Rosie: About the black plague that killed many thousands in London, making them “all fall down”
• Humpty Dumpty: Story of police brutality gone bad
• Sing a Song of Sixpence: Assassination attempt (by poisoning) on the King
• Three Blind Mice: Cruelty against physically disabled animals
• See-saw, Margery Daw: Exploitation of the Working Class
• Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater: Oppression of women
• Rub-a-Dub-Dub: Story of a gay menage-a-trois discovered, resulting in the men being persecuted and run out of town
• Little Bo Peep and Little Boy Blue: Both rhymes about incompetent farm hands
• It’s Raining, It’s Pouring: Euthanasia of the elderly

And the one to top them all

• Rock-a-bye-baby: Sadistic dream of a serial killer of babies

So, are there other nursery rhymes you learnt as a kid that are hiding dark messages?

Living in Delhi, there was no way to avoid seeing the army of child beggars that roam the streets, trying to solicit money by playing on your pity. Growing up with this around you, you get conditioned to it, learning to avoid even looking at them, lest they take the look as a sign of interest and linger at your car window.

Conditions in Delhi seem to have improved quite a bit, and there are less beggars crowding your car at intersections (There are also less intersections to beg at, since Delhi is working hard to remove traffic lights and create flyovers and underpasses in an effort to keep traffic moving). Instead you get a lot of kids hawking wares, from balloons to paper mache idols of Ganesha and Durga. However, you still come across the occasional child begging for money. On a drive through Delhi, we had a young girl carrying a baby approach our car window. But instead of looking away as usual, something made me look more closely at them.

There’s a particularly powerful moment in ‘Slumdog Millionaire’ during the episode when the kids are “employed” as beggars. The hero’s brother, having been made the muscle of the group, goes to organize the kids for their days work. As part of that task, he snatches a baby away from a kid, giving it to a girl deemed more marketable since carrying the baby around would help her earn double or triple her usual take.

That scene was fresh in my mind as I looked at the pair. I thought of the little girl, covered in dust and no more than 5 years old, having to carry this baby around in the Delhi sun all day. The infant couldn’t have beem more than 13 or 14 months old, malnourished as it was. As I looked into its eyes, I thought of Arav, approaching his 11th month. The infant had the same curious look in its eyes that Arav has, but there was a dull glaze that hung over it. As the girl moved from one car to another, the baby barely moved in her arms, deadened to the world whizzing past it.

I thought of the stories we heard as kids – how these street kids were kidnapped from their parents homes to be put to work. It was a scare tactic for the most part, an urban legend made up to try and keep kids safe, wary of strangers, dark alleys and wrong turns. Nonetheless, it had an impact, seared into our brains.

I thought of Arav, and the way that the world is a never-ending source of adventure, every thing he encounters something new to explore and understand. The bright look in his eyes as he moves through the world, always on the move and ready to play with anyone who wil give him time. And my heart cried. Once you have seen the innocence and life in the eyes of a baby, it is hard to watch it destroyed in anothers. I wanted to give them money, but couldn’t knowing that it would just go to their handler. I wanted to do something, but didn’t know what I could. A chink had opened up in that armor that had been so carefully crafted over my years in India. I blame Danny Boyle’s movie.

Hopefully the movie can galvanize people into taking some action that changes the lot of these kids. I know I’m going to be looking into organizations like CRY, the Mumbai Street Children Empowerment Network and Smile Foundation, and how I can help.

It’s been almost 5 years since the last time I was in Delhi. So much has changed since then. The new economy of India has meant lots of development, and a change in the lifestyle of the middle class.

Malls are everywhere, as are cars by companies like Hyundai and Honda. The Ambassador, long the symbol of the Indian automotive industry, has all but disappeared. The Metro is the pride of Delhi-ites, bringing a sense of civic pride and order rarely seen in the blase Indian set. The government is fighting the good fight to improve traffic conditions, and the roads of Delhi are more confusing than ever. Shiny new buses, comparable to the best in the world, transport people in relative comfort. There are more TV channels here than in the States, and the quality of advertising beats that in the US down cold. Movies and cricket still dominates everything, even the cacophony surrounding national politics and Pakistan. Every one has two cellphones, with customized ringtones that blare Hindi film music. And the price of everything has gone through the roof, though it is still cheaper than the west (for the most part).

Yet the inherent quality of Delhi is still the same. It still has a small town feel, where people know their neighbors and shopkeepers greet you by name. Everybody is tired of the politics that seems so out of touch with the lives of the Delhi set. Driving is still an adventure akin to grown-up bumper cars, lanes on the road are still searching for purpose in life, and the horn is a more important driving instrument than turn indicators. And the number of people is still insane (though it won’t be overwhelming to anyone coming from New York).

The dust has been the biggest issue. It is still everywhere and ever-present, despite the massive reduction in pollution. An hour after cleaning, there is a visible layer of dust on everything. This has been a big problem for Arav, because we’ve had to curtail his crawling to keep him on “designated areas” like carpets and rugs, much to his displeasure. The poor kid also fell sick, afflicted by a chest cold because of the sudden change in weather and pollution.

But the biggest thing I noticed is the sense of optimism that has engulfed all of India. There is a palpable sense of expectation, a feeling that the country is poised to take over the world. All the talk is about “bigger and better”, about national pride, about a country that is to be reckoned with. And it is said with a sense of confidence, not the false bravado of old. A young democracy is flexing its muscles, and liking what it sees. Even as the economy collapses around the world, here in India it is viewed as an opportunity to show the nations strength. And the strength is real, the future bright.

It’s an interesting time to be in India. To be an Indian.