What is the Marathon Borivali project
Amin Sheikh presenting his autobiography
Amin just wanted to get away from home. His stepfather beat him and he had to work from an early age. He ran away and lived in the train stations and in the streets of Mumbai. He got to know boils, abuse, hunger and fear. But he was free. As a beggar, garbage collector and shoe shiner, he survived. His sister Sabira followed him. After three years on the street, something happened that seemed like a miracle to him: Sister Seraphine took him and his sister to Snehasadan, to a home for homeless children. He grew up under the care of Father Placido Fonseca and experienced security for the first time. “When you believe in what is good, you see God. My God is the good we see in people, ”he writes. Amin wants to use the proceeds of the book to open a café with a library - "Bombay to Barcelona" - that supports street children.
The book will be published in German in spring 2015.
Author: Amin Sheikh, Mumbai, India (Amins Blog, Facebook)
Published by Via Nova, Petersberg
Translator: Jutta Hajek
“This is just the beginning
I've come a long way, but I still have a long way to go.
Don't forget to smile, even for no reason.
Why? Because life is beautiful. "
Reading sample: On the trains
We raced the train to Marine Drive. We took the train in Borivali, got off at every station to drink water, ran to the end of the platform next to the train and jumped up at the last moment.
Once we drove like this to Dadar station. Two brothers were part of our gang. In Dadar the younger fell under the train. We saw it happen. We called to him: “Run, run!” But at the last moment he slipped under the train. We didn't know what to do. We hadn't even realized that something like this could happen. In the train the older one started crying. It was brutal, we were as quiet as a mouse and we were trembling all over. We were in shock. We got off at the next stop and drove back. But his brother wasn't there.
We asked people in the train station. But trains come in every two minutes and crowds pour out. Nobody had seen the accident. We asked some shoeshine wallahs but they said they had no idea. We didn't go to the sea that day. Instead we drove back to Borivali station. We tried to stay calm and not talk too much. But then we argued: my friend, the older brother, suddenly said it was my fault that this happened. I said, “No, it's your fault!” But actually we were both to blame.
After a week a man came by. He looked for my friend and spoke of his brother who we thought had died. We both went to Sion Hospital with the man. There we met my friend's mother and ... his brother, the boy who had fallen under the train. When the mother saw my friend, her second son, she screamed and howled. I just stood there and looked at the three of them and thought of my own mother. The little brother was missing a finger and had a thick bandage, but he smiled at us. He even said, “If I hadn't fallen, I would have won the race!” As I listened to him, I thought, “That little guy won anyway, even if the missing finger will remind him of that moment for life. "
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