Redemption

'Redemption? You're asking me for redemption?' his voice was impatient, gruff and unkind. The signs were not good. Sammy just nodded. He was a good boy and had learnt in his 12 long years on this god forsaken planet when and when not to speak.

Bullet turned away, adjusting his gold rings on his left hand before swinging it wildly forward and catching the poor boy directly across his left cheek and literally lifting him up off the ground as he fell, in slow motion, on to the spotless office floor. Sammy lay there, dazed yet aware of Bullet, the huge brute of a young man who ran the district known as West Central.

Bullet was waiting for the young kid to get up, desperate to exact yet more violence but time was ticking, always ticking, and Sammy sensed the clock may just save him.

The door opened.

'What the hell do you want?' shouted Bullet as light feet entered the office. Sammy knew immediately the feet were those of a lady and he also knew in Bullets tone that a softer shade had arrived.

'Boy!' shouted Bullet, grabbing him by his hair and pulling him up off the floor, 'you got targets, you hear me, targets! Rupees, cards and jewellery; that's what you bring me, not excuses. No more, right?'

With that he raised his hand again only for the beautiful young Rati to shout 'No!'

Sammy was saved. This time.


In India there are estimated to be between 500,000 to a million street children who do not attend any school and who spend most of their time on the streets. Often runaways from family disputes, these children often band together into violent gangs that are more often than not controlled by the criminal underbelly of society.