Reading and writing is a hobby for many and I have tried to make a humble and modest attempt at writing my own experiences and thoughts as a woman, mother and a person; to explore this hobby of mine.
Monday, November 1, 2021
Too close
Charan's Feet
Charan, with cracked feet and worn out slippers, climbed down the steps from his one room residence in Dharavi, the biggest slum in Asia. His climbing down was slow in contrast to his rising. As an orphan, he had nowhere to go, no place to sleep, nobody to call his own. Had it not been for Shantabai, he would have been a lost soul. But here he was, owner of one room in Dharavi. His desire to have a family and lead a normal life, would have been fulfilled had he not been a hitman for the local goon.
After climbing down the stairs, Charan started slowly in the direction of the tea stall. His mind was in turmoil, just like the hot stirring ginger tea. It had been a few weeks since he had noticed the blurred vision in his right eye. No wonder his target practice had taken an aberration. Anyway, after finishing his tea, Charan dragged himself to the clinic where he was asked to wait in the queue. Had it been another day, Charan would have demanded to meet the doctor immediately, but something held him back. When his turn came, he was greeted by the doctor, who immediately pulled out a report, taken a few days back. The doctor’s voice was clear, ‘Your head scan shows an extremely large tumour in the left brain….your blurred vision is a result of this…. I am sorry, but you have a few hours to enjoy your life’.
The shock was visible on Charan’s face and his entire body went numb. His dream of having a family was shattered. ‘Ah yes, you have a healthy body’, continued the doctor. ‘Why don’t you think of organ donation ? This way you will live through so many souls’ said the doctor. Charan, the hitman, would have heard nothing from the doctor, but he knew the doctor was right. With a twinkle in his eyes and faster steps, Charan climbed the stairs to his room. His feet were no longer cracked, they had healed.
It makes a difference
Sara, a seven year old, was a bright girl who stayed near the sea. She would carry a carrot in her while helping her father clean the docked filthy ships. Once aboard, she would look for unclaimed lost items such as pen, pencil, rings, books etc and pretend that it would make no difference to the owner, if she kept the items with her. Her peculiar habit, that did not amount to stealing; did not go well with her parents and they would explode only to aggravate her bad habit further.
One day, fate played a trick. Sara was busy looking at a lost toy tiger, when down swooped a crow and took away her carrot that she had put on the table deck, near the radio appliance. Sara heard the flutter of wings, but could only watch the crow fly away with her carrot. "My carrot, my carrot ...." Sara shouted but the bird had flown away. She started to cry when her father heard the commotion. He spoke softly to Sara, "Why do you cry, dear ? You had kept the carrot on the table, it means that it made no difference to you if the carrot would be claimed by somebody, isn't it ?"
Sara realized the pain of losing her precious belongings. She realized how the owners of unclaimed lost items would have felt on losing their belongings. It would have been appropriate of her to keep the things in the right place for people to later on claim them. Surely, getting back your things does make a difference.