A long time ago, on the streets of old England, a young lady was taking her evening stroll. Suddenly, she felt weak and collapsed on the pavement she was walking on. A crowd of people gathered around her. “What happened to her?” “We should get her some help.” They quickly took the lady to a nearby shelter, and discovered that she was expecting a baby.
After nursing her for a few hours, she gave birth to a baby-boy. As luck would have it, the poor woman lost her life while delivering the boy. The people in the shelter sent the baby-boy to an orphanage, and there he got his name–Oliver Twist. The orphanage was a small and miserable place. The kids were given small ortions of food, barely enough to fill their stomachs. They were not treated well.
One day, a man came to visit the orphanage. “Oliver is too old to live here now. He should start working. I shall take him to the shelter,” the man said. So, when Oliver turned 9 years old, the man took him to the workhouse. He, along with several other young boys, was made to work for very long hours. They weren’t paid good sums, and were given only bland gruel to eat.
The boys starved every day. One afternoon, they decided that one of them would go ahead and ask Mr Bumble (caretaker of the orphanage) for more food. To decide who would be the one to ask for, they turned a bottle, and it pointed at Oliver. Reluctantly, Oliver stood up from his chair and went over to Mr Bumble. “Can I have some more gruel?” Oliver timidly asked. Mr Bumble became red, and shouted in rage.
He said, “I take care of you every day. How dare you ask for more? Isn’t this enough for you? You can’t stay here any more!” And once again, Oliver was sent off. This time, he was sent to the city undertaker, Mr Sowerberry’s house. “He is too young for these tasks. I don’t like his work,” the undertaker remarked and banished Oliver from the job.
Now, poor Oliver had nowhere to go. He wandered aimlessly across the London streets, hoping to find a shelter and some food. ‘Even the workhouse was better than this,’ he thought. While walking, he came across a small boy, about his own age. The boy saw the gloomy state that Oliver was in, and approached him.
“I am Jack Dawkins. You can call me Artful Dodger. Do you want to come with me to a place where there are beds and food to eat, and no rent to pay?” Oliver could not believe what he had heard; a flicker of hope rose in him. He followed Dodger to an apartment.
A man, nearly in his thirties, greeted him. He said, “I am Fagin, the owner of this place. You are welcome to stay here, provided you follow some rules.” It was minutes later that Oliver realised that all of the boys living in Fagin’s house were thieves. To be able to stay at this apartment, one had to pickpocket and commit robberies. “Come on, Oliver! Let me show you how it’s done,” Dodger held Oliver’s hand and took him out on a busy street.
While Oliver stood at the corner, Dodger ran and swiftly moved his hand around a man’s watch. “Look, how easy it is to steal these things,” Artful Dodger gleamed with happiness as he showed Oliver the watch he had just robbed. “It is your turn now. Go and get that man’s silk handkerchief from his pocket,” Dodger gave Oliver a nudge. Oliver could not move, and felt uneasy doing an unlawful act.
“Okay, I’ll do it; but the next one is yours,” Dodger ran towards the man. He once again, managed to steal. But the man had seen them both; he quickly shouted, “Police! Police!!” Quickly, Dodger put the stolen item in Oliver’s hand and escaped . The police caught hold of Oliver,and handcuffed him.
“I didn’t do it,” Oliver pleaded. “Let go of him. He didn’t steal my hanky. The other boy was the thief,” the man said. The man’s name was Mr Brownlow and he knew Oliver was innocent. Mr Brownlow felt sad for the boy after looking at his dejected state. Kind Brownlow offered Oliver to live with him.
Oliver, having nowhere else to go, instantly agreed. His days were pleasant there, and full of happiness. Oliver and Mr Brownlow established a loving relationship, one that of father and child. One day, while going to the bookseller to return some books, Oliver noticed something. Behind the brick wall at the end of the street, were Fagin and Artful Dodger
Frightened, Oliver started to run away. But the evil men finally managed to catch up with him. “Come with us now! ou will tell someone of our hiding place; we have to take you.” The men kidnapped poor Oliver. Yet again, Oliver was forced to carry out robberies and break in houses. One night, reluctantly, Oliver had to break into a big mansion of a wealthy lady
Before he could proceed, a servant saw him and shot him on the arm. Other boys promptly escaped the site, leaving Oliver behind once again. Scared of the consequences, Oliver told the owner of the house, Mrs Maylie, the truth. He informed her that he had no intention to commit a crime, but was under pressure from Fagin and his boys. Mrs Maylie and her niece Rose decided to keep the young lad under their care and nursed him back to good health.
With love and warmth at Maylie’s house, Oliver soon recovered. He formed a wonderful bond with Mrs Maylie and Rose. Upon learning about Oliver’s previous caretaker, Mr Brownlow, Rose decided to reunite them. After months of searching, she finally could find him. “Oliver, is that you?” Mr Brownlow was very happy to see the young Oliver once again. Oliver hugged Brownlow, and all was well, except one small task.
Rose, Brownlow and Oliver were determined to catch the criminals–Fagin and Dodger. After a few weeks, with the help of Oliver, they could finally track them down. “Arrest them, officer,” Rose exposed the hiding place of Fagin and his boys. It was a happy ending as Oliver danced around his three favourite people–Mrs Maylie, Rose and Mr Brownlow. From that day on, they all lived together peacefully, in a small village of England.
