It was dark.... and moist...
The air was heavy.. and the lungs tried hard to breathe..
The heart was pounding in the rib-cage...
And in the stomach, there was fire...
It was not anger.
It was hunger.
The man with the mic announced...
"Now, ladies and gentlemen, I am going to introduce among you, our very own.. Shivcharan Sharma..."
There was a thunderous applause.
Someone whistled.
It was darkness.
Dad could not see anything, either because of his hunger, or because it was too dark..
Why was he there? He couldn't know...
He looked around. His son was nowhere..
"Mr. Sharma, all our audience out there wants to know how you attained such a success in your business.... could you oblige us by a few words.."?
Dad looked at himself. His clothes were rags. His skin was dirty. His nails were uncut.
He didn't know what to say. Was it a joke? he thought.
"Mr. Sharma.. your wife has been a vital support to you. She played an important role in your progress. Could we meet her?"
"I think.. she isn't around.. ", dad replied... wiping his forehead with his dirty palm... he was persiring.
"Sorry, people! Seems like Mrs. Sharma has gone for her job. May be they have bedwetting children at that place.."
They laughed around him. Where is she? Where am I? What is this place? He kept questioning.
Some dustbin rattled somewhere around.
"And here, Mr. Sharma!", the man with the mic said, "Is your son.. quite a discoverer he is, that he has been searching dustbins. May be he has adopted your strategy: WASTE TO BEST"
They howled, cried, whistled, laughed.... in short, they disturbed.. his mental peace... but where was it ? His wife wasn't found anywhere, his son-his life was scraping dustbins, he himself was lying on the streets.. Madness....!
He looked at his son. He wanted to shout, and stop him... but... he couldn't scream! His beloved son had a spade in the hand. He dug the soil.. deeper.. deeper..
And then he stopped. He looked in the pit. He put his hand inside.
'No son no... " dad muttered..
He pulled out something sparkling in that dim yellow streetlight.. the man with the mic went by him... and said..
"Surely, folks.. this kid, as we thought, has found a treasure... I knew form the very beginning.. that this boy is.. extraordinary.. brilliant... impressive.."
The darkness went.. the sun showed up.. the applauses came.. and lasted.. the focuse shifted on the boy.. and..
Dad woke.
His son was safe between him and mom, on the cozy bed... in the warmest blanket..
Dad looked at him.. he smiled in his sleep...
"Don't worry, dad.." He seemed to say.. "I'll keep you name... however tough times we are in.."
Dad slept, hoping that tonight's dream may never come true..
The air was heavy.. and the lungs tried hard to breathe..
The heart was pounding in the rib-cage...
And in the stomach, there was fire...
It was not anger.
It was hunger.
The man with the mic announced...
"Now, ladies and gentlemen, I am going to introduce among you, our very own.. Shivcharan Sharma..."
There was a thunderous applause.
Someone whistled.
It was darkness.
Dad could not see anything, either because of his hunger, or because it was too dark..
Why was he there? He couldn't know...
He looked around. His son was nowhere..
"Mr. Sharma, all our audience out there wants to know how you attained such a success in your business.... could you oblige us by a few words.."?
Dad looked at himself. His clothes were rags. His skin was dirty. His nails were uncut.
He didn't know what to say. Was it a joke? he thought.
"Mr. Sharma.. your wife has been a vital support to you. She played an important role in your progress. Could we meet her?"
"I think.. she isn't around.. ", dad replied... wiping his forehead with his dirty palm... he was persiring.
"Sorry, people! Seems like Mrs. Sharma has gone for her job. May be they have bedwetting children at that place.."
They laughed around him. Where is she? Where am I? What is this place? He kept questioning.
Some dustbin rattled somewhere around.
"And here, Mr. Sharma!", the man with the mic said, "Is your son.. quite a discoverer he is, that he has been searching dustbins. May be he has adopted your strategy: WASTE TO BEST"
They howled, cried, whistled, laughed.... in short, they disturbed.. his mental peace... but where was it ? His wife wasn't found anywhere, his son-his life was scraping dustbins, he himself was lying on the streets.. Madness....!
He looked at his son. He wanted to shout, and stop him... but... he couldn't scream! His beloved son had a spade in the hand. He dug the soil.. deeper.. deeper..
And then he stopped. He looked in the pit. He put his hand inside.
'No son no... " dad muttered..
He pulled out something sparkling in that dim yellow streetlight.. the man with the mic went by him... and said..
"Surely, folks.. this kid, as we thought, has found a treasure... I knew form the very beginning.. that this boy is.. extraordinary.. brilliant... impressive.."
The darkness went.. the sun showed up.. the applauses came.. and lasted.. the focuse shifted on the boy.. and..
Dad woke.
His son was safe between him and mom, on the cozy bed... in the warmest blanket..
Dad looked at him.. he smiled in his sleep...
"Don't worry, dad.." He seemed to say.. "I'll keep you name... however tough times we are in.."
Dad slept, hoping that tonight's dream may never come true..
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