Stealing a Cake

I first became aware of poverty at the age of three.

My family had recently moved to the city of Allahabad, in Uttar Pradesh, India, and my father ran a restaurant near the university. My mother would dress me in the morning and send me to the restaurant, where I would play with the children of other shopkeepers on that street.

One day I strayed into an alley and saw two boys. I stopped in my tracks. Instinctively, I could see the difference between them and me. While I was clean and well-dressed, they had only cotton shorts on and their bodies were dark with dust, as if they had walked out of a chimney. 

They, too, were surprised. From a distance, they tried to assure me they meant no harm. For some reason, I was not afraid, just startled. They begged me for some food. I stared at their faces in disbelief. I could not imagine anyone being hungry. 

“Just wait,” the words tumbled out of me. I walked back to my father’s restaurant and entered through the rear kitchen door to see if I could find any food for the boys.

The first thing I saw was a white cake on the counter. I had never seen a cake before, as cakes were not made in India at that time. Little did I know that my father had gone to great lengths to make it as a rare delicacy. I only knew that it was beautiful. 

I carefully lifted the cake on its cardboard base. It was heavy. The cooks were swamped with breakfast orders and didn’t pay any attention to me. 

As I stepped out the door, I heard the head cook on the other side of the kitchen holler, “Hey, where are you taking that cake?” I thought I had gone undetected, but–darn it!–somebody had seen me. I took off running down the street. 

The head cook crossed the long kitchen to the door, expecting to see me there. When he saw me running, he shouted “Stop! Stop! Where are you going?” He came after me, with another cook right behind him. 

I soon realized that two “giants” were chasing me–and I was losing my lead! Sensing danger, my body shifted into high gear. I became aware of my little penguin-like legs running as fast as they could while I balanced the cake. I was deadly focused on getting to those boys before the giants could catch me. 

I heard swift footsteps behind me getting closer and closer. Fortunately, I had just enough of a lead to get across the road and reach the alley where the boys were waiting.

As one of the giants grabbed my left arm, I threw the cake with my right. It landed right in the lap of one of the boys. They grabbed chunks of cake as fast as their little hands could move, and the beautiful cake was destroyed in a split second.