It was cold. Not the regular pleasant cold but the frosty teeth clattering cold. The world seemed not to notice him. Why would they. He was not someone well known or not even one of those faces which you would remember. He was from a lower strata of the society whom people overlooked, seldom even acknowledging their presence.
Disheveled hair. White face turned black with the coal picking and the pollution. Hands as rough as they can get in a 10 year old boy. Slender food deprived frame. Wearing a tattered red shirt and black half pants. The only thing striking about him was the eyes. Even in the harsh surrounding around him and of his life, they gleamed with a strange hope.
He was passing by the main road. Looking calmly into the windows of the shops. The clothes and the mannequin seemed to hold his attention. He looked at this trio of mannequin which consisted of a man, wife and a little child. They were well dressed. Even though they were lifeless, looking at them gave him a sense of life. He was reminded of his own parents or maybe a figment of them. They had passed away long back leaving him to the fate of this harsh world.
Slowly crossing the main road, he went into the lane beside. People hardly used to notice this lane. It was as if it didn’t exist for the general crowd. It was narrow and dark. Rotten smell from the years of dumping waste at the end of the lane discouraged anyone entering there.
He quietly went there and sat on one side of the lane. From out his pockets he took out an old plastic and the tube. The white color of the plastic was no more. It had turned into a dying shade of yellow. The tube was at the end of its life. He squeezed out the tube with all the strength he had to get the drops of the white paste into the plastic. Satisfied no more could come out, he threw away the tube.
He pushed his nose and mouth into the plastic and gave a deep inhale. Instantly he was transported to a world which felt like home. He forgot the cold, the hunger, the poverty, the everyday abuses by his owner, the looks of the passing crowd, the filth.
He closed his eyes and pictured his parents wearing the same clothes as that of the mannequins. He felt happy.
He inhaled again. More deeply.
Disheveled hair. White face turned black with the coal picking and the pollution. Hands as rough as they can get in a 10 year old boy. Slender food deprived frame. Wearing a tattered red shirt and black half pants. The only thing striking about him was the eyes. Even in the harsh surrounding around him and of his life, they gleamed with a strange hope.
He was passing by the main road. Looking calmly into the windows of the shops. The clothes and the mannequin seemed to hold his attention. He looked at this trio of mannequin which consisted of a man, wife and a little child. They were well dressed. Even though they were lifeless, looking at them gave him a sense of life. He was reminded of his own parents or maybe a figment of them. They had passed away long back leaving him to the fate of this harsh world.
Slowly crossing the main road, he went into the lane beside. People hardly used to notice this lane. It was as if it didn’t exist for the general crowd. It was narrow and dark. Rotten smell from the years of dumping waste at the end of the lane discouraged anyone entering there.
He quietly went there and sat on one side of the lane. From out his pockets he took out an old plastic and the tube. The white color of the plastic was no more. It had turned into a dying shade of yellow. The tube was at the end of its life. He squeezed out the tube with all the strength he had to get the drops of the white paste into the plastic. Satisfied no more could come out, he threw away the tube.
He pushed his nose and mouth into the plastic and gave a deep inhale. Instantly he was transported to a world which felt like home. He forgot the cold, the hunger, the poverty, the everyday abuses by his owner, the looks of the passing crowd, the filth.
He closed his eyes and pictured his parents wearing the same clothes as that of the mannequins. He felt happy.
He inhaled again. More deeply.
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