His liquid eyes, twin pools of innocence, have a sparkle that only children are blessed with. He speaks in a staccato burst, tripping over his words and lisps a current Bollywood hit with glee.

His toothy, impish grin belies the fact that while other children his age are either playing or being schooled, he is forced to serve food to people at the dhaba that he works at on the Mumbai-Nagpur highway near Jalgaon in Maharashtra. He does not seem to be a day over ten years old, but insists he is fourteen.

Raju -- he doesn't offer his surname -- goes about his chore with a cheerfulness that is almost heart-breaking. If he knows that he has been deprived of the right to childhood or of the joys of being a goofy kid or to fulfil his true potential, he disguises it well behind his infectious smile.

He has no inkling of what the future holds for him nor does he seem to care. He is just too busy trying to earn enough to buy some food so that he and his family do not go to bed hungry. Today, though, he is happy, secure in the knowledge that he would not have to make do with water alone when he goes to bed after a gruelling 12-hour work day at the dhaba.