Love ke liye kuchh bhi karega
Ever since the little runt had arrived 6 years ago, her parents had sort of given up on her and her sister. Though he was the youngest, they seemed to be glow whenever he was around...he seemed to get the best of whatever food was cooked in the evening, for instance. Her father reveled in calling him 'beta'; she and her sisters were called all sort of unpronounceable names. Not a single day did she see him being beaten for his mischief; but she could hardly forget the thrashing at the hands of their father, every now and then. Particularly, when collections were low. Drunk or sober, beating the 3 of them - including her mother - was her father's fav. pastime. Every now and then, late at night, she would be woken up by the sounds of her mother moaning, as if in pain; in the morning, her throat and face would bear red marks. Her father was really a rakshas in disguise; where he worked and how much he earned to support all of them, only god knew. She was sure it was a curse to be born as a girl and that too as an eldest.
A little away from the pavement jhopdi they lived on the Andheri Kurla highway was the airport where every now and then, one of those big planes seemed to climb and land...what were they called? Hahn...hawai jahaz! There also seemed to be an endless flow of buses and cars carrying people on the road. A little ahead was a traffic junction; every now and then, buses and cars would stop. Many of the occupants inside looked different. They were invariably white skinned and they always seemed to stare at her and her band of fellow beggars. She didn't care; she would intensify her naatak and lift her dirty shirt to display her stomach…that was a surefire way to get them to part with their money; and if that did not, she was content to accept biscuits or sweets or water bottles….
Today was a bad day in particular. Why, she did not know. There seemed to be lesser buses and cars than usual. She glanced over at the little runt who was with his pal Sagar and a few other boys. His shirt pocket did not seem to sag like it usually did when his collections were good. Good for the little bastard, she thought and hoped he would get his ears screwed today too by their father. Her father expected nothing less than 50 bucks each from all the 3 of them. She cursed the little runt loudly; she was jealous of him, his forlorn looks and the way he begged – almost like he would die if he didn’t get money - which prompted people to part with more than she could ever hope to get…
( To be continued.....)
Posted at 04:51 pm by Ravi
June 3, 2005 01:19 PM PDT
Thanks, Van. Over this weekend, I will develop and add to the next 3 parts till the painful ending....
June 1, 2005 01:38 PM PDT
Aaaarg that was painful ravi. U are adding to the depression man. But hey a neat bit of writing. the flow is perfect. Whens the next bit coming on
June 1, 2005 12:02 PM PDT
Yes, it is a multi part story, based on a true life incident that happened during my last visit to Mumbai.
Nope, no "sublime" reason behind spacing and font. Cutting and pasting from MS-Word seems to have caused this problem....sorry! :)
|Dheepak Ra |
May 30, 2005 08:34 PM PDT
It looks like multi-part series considering the fact that the content is no where close to the title.
BTW was the decrease in spacing and font with each paragraph, intentional? Sorry if it has some sublime meaning, its way above my head.