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.