"OMG! Not again." Cathy hissed to herself. She was getting late, terribly late and now it was going to be more trouble, all thanks to the non ending pool of vehicles that restlessly was honking to rush. Catherine, in short Cathy the busy bee was in a rush to reach her office. The young executive woman fed on her nails and literally was ruining the manicured art! She decided to let go her priced nails, to take a breath of fresh air and unrolled the window that shielded her from the world out. Street hawkers enticed by this act of hers, crowded near her car. She said no and no and no to all of them though with a smile. Ah! Saying no is a grace bestowed on her by her profession. Her eyes ran through the narrow space between the packed traffic. All she saw were busy faces, irritated and desperate. Motorcyclists dotting on chances to creep through somehow. The sun was setting and seemed to bid bye with tears. A rain would follow, she felt. "Didi ..." Cathy turned to see a puny, messy boy in tattered trousers. He held to her a bunch of flowers. "Didi ... Good Phool ... Only 40." He said to her in a broken dialect. The scent of the vivid flowers starkly contrasted the persona of the little marketing expert. As in a trance, her hands went for her purse, her eyes still fixed on the little boy. He was writing something on the dust laden backseat of a bike that stood near to him. She was reminded of her own childhood. The days of obscure freedom and happiness. Cathy too had loved writing on dust laden glasses of the vehicles that visited her house. She drew a picture of a small girl smiling and wrote "Cathy" alongside and believed that this would be a gift to the owners and they would remember her forever through this autograph of hers. A smile lingered through her lips and glowed in her eyes. She handed over 2 crisp 20 rupee notes to him. The boy almost snatched from her hands the money and ran through the gaps to where she din't know. Curiosity aroused in her to get a glimpse of what he had wrote on the bike. Maybe she can find his name in it. She peeped out and "40" was all what she saw. Her smile faded.
Little marketer's perspective
Another traffic jam. Thank God. Maybe some one will buy these flowers and I'll get some money. All those windows I knock on, why don't they even bother to open those glasses? Do I appear a pest to them! The sun's setting and it would be dark soon. And Maai's alone at home. I need to rush. Please will some one atleast take a look at these flowers? None knows the pain I took to steal these flowers from Mrs.Ganguly's garden. How I ran from there .... Will all my effort go wasted? Maai always says stealing is bad. But what else could I do? None bothered to lend me money, though I begged hard their mercy. Cruel people. Maai says bad people goes to hell .... Will I go there too? But .. Maai needed medicines. She isn't well. She is too ill. Ah! There is a Didi. Maybe she'll buy these flowers. Good lord why is she staring at me like this? Am I nothing more than a pest? Can't she just pay instead of smiling strangely at me! What is going on! Ah ... 40 Rupees . That can pay for all medicines. With overwhelming happiness I drew a 4 and a 0 that I saw in the Tonic bottle that the shopkeeper showed when I asked for the medicine. Now Maai will become alright and she would sing lullaby for me as she always used to do. Finally I got the money in my hands. And here I come Maai.