Thursday, 16 October 2014

A Small World

The traffic bustled on. Fast and unheeding. This pace is always fascinating. Until you are the one pausing, and wishing someone would halt to take a look at you, lend a shoulder, listen. Here, the world was simple. The traffic around and the dark looming bridge above. Beyond this, world meant nothing. Just a few coins thrown out of mercy and the blaring traffic.

They were three. Ripped off from different families. Bound to the same fate. Partners in this struggle called life. Filthy. Puny. Knocking on rolled up windows and pulling down cuffs, pleading for your pity. Alms. None they earned would be theirs. A mother they had to pay to. Mother? A woman who tied the strings of their lives together and gave them the sky of this bridge to sleep under. Drugged. Kidnapped.

Today was but a battle. A fourth character had entered the scene. He and she exchanged words they couldn't fathom. Though colourless, their childhood still was beyond the understanding of such hatred in words. Until they started pulling their little limbs, they didn't know the fight was over them. For them. The man wanted to earn. So the threesome, he wanted to be his. The woman but couldn't let him take away her means of livelihood. Abuses. Physical might. Again abuses. Amidst this hurl of hatred none noticed the smallest of the three being pushed to the centre. Road. Where the world sped through. An undernourished shriek was heard, not beyond a radius of a few ears. Blood was all that splashed and remained.

The phone kept on ringing, until it got tired and chose to be a voicemail. "I'll be late today". She knew that would be his father, the usual call, the same line. She pursued what she was doing. Since past two years. She rocked the cradle, with a faint lullaby in her lips. An old, sad lullaby. She could see him there, smiling in his sleep as she kissed him goodbye and left for the movie. Trust on a maid, she didn't know could shatter her life. Two years. He would be four now. At times, she raised her head and stared at the open door. She believed he would one day walk in, along with the breeze that kept on swinging the door. But he came, never.  Her hope was smeared in the shades of immortality. After all a small box news about a child run-over in a town alien to her city would be what she would never choose to read.