I have to say that the little boy was in good spirits. He was quite cheerful and hobbled along beside me as I tried to find someone that knew anything about him. One of the other members of the mishap board told me later that a higher class Indian woman standing next to him was watching everything the little boy and I did and looked very disapproving at first, but gradually, the look on her face changed to something more pleasant as I tried to find someone to help. About this time the boy saw someone drinking one of those boxed fruit juice drinks with a straw and the little boy pointed at the drink then at the counter where they were sold. I took him over with me to the counter and bought him one and he seemed thrilled. I noticed that he had quite a few bills stuffed in his pocket and I learned later that he was probably “owned” by some boss who took him back and forth to the best begging spots, and only let the little boy keep a part of what he made.

Finally, I could see that the train was about to come and I hadn’t had any success finding someone that knew anything about the boy or could help. I stooped down and took hold of his little thin arm and in the midst of the pressing crowd on the busy platform gave him a silent priesthood blessing and asked Heavenly Father to bless him and ease his suffering and to watch over him. Then the train arrived and I had to get on. As I turned to get on the train the little boy held out his tiny hand to say goodbye. I looked in his eyes as we shook hands, had one more chance to look at his clothes, which were sewn on to him and hadn’t been off for as long as his feet had been swollen at least, then turned to get on the train. I stopped to wave goodbye and we were off.

Hindsight is 20/20 of course, and now I can think of a number of different things I might have done, but at the time I felt largely helpless. One of the mishap board members mentioned “…that you can’t help them all”, to which I replied, “No I can’t, but I can help one, and will if I can think of a way.”
…

We arrived at the New Delhi train station at about 10 pm. Since a lot of people have no homes, the train station stays busy all day and all night. There were masses of people everywhere and we waded through them as we exited the train station. We weren’t sure whether there was going to be someone there to meet us as part of the tour or not, when suddenly an Indian approached, called out to us authoritatively to follow, then turned and started to walk away. …

We finally reached what served as his car. It was a dreadfully dilapidated affair that looked like it had been rescued from the car compactor a few seconds after compaction cycle had begun. Still, we were all tired and the driver said he would take us to the hotel for a good price, so we threw good judgment to the wind and all hopped in.

Unlike some of the other drivers who have held us prisoner as they toyed with our lives on free-for-all stock car race tracks that pass for highways in India, this one was positively peaceful. But then he had to be since his taxi gave every evidence of pending disintegration each time we hit a bump the size of a pea on the road. Furthermore, his steering was so worn he had to constantly turn it almost from lock to lock just to keep us more or less within 20 or so feet of highway centerline. Still, the fact that you’re reading this now is evidence that we ultimately arrived, although the look of disbelief on the face of the doorman at the 5-star hotel when we rolled up to the grand hotel entrance in a powered dustbin almost made the entire experience worthwhile.

Well I really want to get this in the mail so I’ll end here and revise my next letter to pick up at this point.
…

Take care of yourself and be extra safe and careful wherever you go. And try to have enough courage to bear your testimony every time the spirit prompts you to. Even if the people don’t seem receptive you never know what is really in their hearts, but Heavenly Father does and will seal your testimony in their hearts if He can.

Don’t forget that we pray for you every day to be honorable, safe, and the best servant you can be. We love you and miss you dreadfully but know that you are on the Lord’s errand, learning lessons you can’t learn any other way.

Love from Dad

[The following pages contain letters by my father to various individuals and agencies, and their responses to him, to continue his efforts to find help for this little beggar boy. These letters also provide additional information about the boy, his condition and the results of my father’s efforts.]