As I walked down the street, I couldn't help but notice a group of teens huddled in the corner of the pan shop. They were giggling and whispering among themselves, their eyes darting back and forth to ensure no one was watching. But I saw them, and my heart sank.
They were so young, barely 13 or 14 years old, with their whole lives ahead of them. Yet, they were already succumbing to the allure of drugs. I remembered when I was their age, full of hope and dreams, never thinking that I'd be witnessing something like this.
As I watched, the shopkeeper discreetly handed one of them a small packet, taking money in exchange. The teens quickly dispersed, disappearing into the crowd. I felt a surge of anger and helplessness.
I approached the shopkeeper, who looked away, knowing he'd been caught. "Don't you know how old they are?" I asked, trying to keep my tone calm. He shrugged, "They come here, I sell. Not my problem."
I realized that this was a bigger issue than just one shopkeeper or one group of teens. It was a systemic problem, a symptom of a society that failed to support its youth. I decided to report the incident to the authorities, hoping it would lead to some change.
As I walked away, I couldn't shake off the image of those young faces, still clinging to their childhood innocence, yet being pulled into a world that would change them forever. I hoped that somehow, someway, we could save them from the devastating grip of drug addiction.
Article By: J. Senthil Mithra
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