The slippers were very irritating. The dusts and spits of water from the road formed miniature, muddy and uncomfortable puddles in the slipper’s undulations.
A beggar sat cross-legged by the roadside. His feet were covered in a funeral blanket. His eyes stared unfalteringly at a distant arbitrary object. His hands moved in a systematic and rhythmic motion; the ends of the cymbals hitting each other in perfect synchronization. I passed him nonchalantly.
Weighing machines, sleeping kids, the stolen watches vendor, the trinket seller all set themselves in a manner organized to cause the maximum hindrance to pedestrians. As if the jagged rocks, bricks and man-holes scattered all over the pavement were not enough.
Shuffling feet, heavy breathing, sweltering faces; they all gave me a second look as I passed. Their eyes shone with fear and hunger. I tried to ignore it but I couldn’t. A young boy of about six ran and grasped my trouser leg with all he was worth. I resisted the temptation to kick him and pushed him away as gently as possible. The child ran off to hide behind a fruit-juice stand. A few black patches of dirt now covered my otherwise sparkling white trouser right where that kid had held me. I cursed the little beggar boy.
Dodging the heavy rush hour traffic near, Suicide Alley, I managed to barge into Kumars’ sweet shop. The singeing sun, the reckless drivers and the obstacle course I had just completed had made me unbearably thirsty. I ordered a mango shake.
I sat by the window allowing my eyes to observe. Then they fell to rest on that young beggar boy. He was being beaten by his mother. “Bainchod, bas itna paisa laya aaj?” She screamed at him. The boy retreated, tears rolling down his dark cheek. Without waiting for the milk shake I walked out of the shop.
I headed back towards school not really knowing what to think; only aware that I should have a profound thought. I was deep in introspection and retrospection and all those other big-words when suddenly a hand fell on my shoulder. I turned to find Hamid. I wasn’t particularly fond of him. I wanted to shout at him, probably say an obscene word or two, but before I could, he flashed two tickets for the latest movie, waving it in front of my face. I literally fell at his feet and grabbed his leg.
The incidents of the day well forgotten, I became his best friend for the next four hours...
A beggar sat cross-legged by the roadside. His feet were covered in a funeral blanket. His eyes stared unfalteringly at a distant arbitrary object. His hands moved in a systematic and rhythmic motion; the ends of the cymbals hitting each other in perfect synchronization. I passed him nonchalantly.
Weighing machines, sleeping kids, the stolen watches vendor, the trinket seller all set themselves in a manner organized to cause the maximum hindrance to pedestrians. As if the jagged rocks, bricks and man-holes scattered all over the pavement were not enough.
Shuffling feet, heavy breathing, sweltering faces; they all gave me a second look as I passed. Their eyes shone with fear and hunger. I tried to ignore it but I couldn’t. A young boy of about six ran and grasped my trouser leg with all he was worth. I resisted the temptation to kick him and pushed him away as gently as possible. The child ran off to hide behind a fruit-juice stand. A few black patches of dirt now covered my otherwise sparkling white trouser right where that kid had held me. I cursed the little beggar boy.
Dodging the heavy rush hour traffic near, Suicide Alley, I managed to barge into Kumars’ sweet shop. The singeing sun, the reckless drivers and the obstacle course I had just completed had made me unbearably thirsty. I ordered a mango shake.
I sat by the window allowing my eyes to observe. Then they fell to rest on that young beggar boy. He was being beaten by his mother. “Bainchod, bas itna paisa laya aaj?” She screamed at him. The boy retreated, tears rolling down his dark cheek. Without waiting for the milk shake I walked out of the shop.
I headed back towards school not really knowing what to think; only aware that I should have a profound thought. I was deep in introspection and retrospection and all those other big-words when suddenly a hand fell on my shoulder. I turned to find Hamid. I wasn’t particularly fond of him. I wanted to shout at him, probably say an obscene word or two, but before I could, he flashed two tickets for the latest movie, waving it in front of my face. I literally fell at his feet and grabbed his leg.
The incidents of the day well forgotten, I became his best friend for the next four hours...
