Boy Who polished the boots

Every morning he would sit on the farther side of road, leading to 'Ryan School'. He was a boy, hardly 9 year old, who used to polish shoes of children of that school. His boot polish store had one small carpet, few torn shoes, a steel cisterns with few pennies and a stone which acted as a raised platform where he used to put shoes to polish.
Today, there was something unusual. It was around 11.30 in morning and students were piled up for getting their shoe polished. He was quivering from one shoe to other, brushing the every bit of dirt from them with his brush and small box of 'Cherry Blossom', without knowing the reason behind such curiosity of students for getting their shoe polished.
Few minutes later, someone summoned them. There were still few left with unpolished shoes but the penny box was almost full with glittering pennies. They all ran towards the gate. After a minute or so, children came out with a large blue banner made from rayon cloth along with few others posters. It was looking like a rally as students lined on both sides of the road.
Police jeeps arrived at the spot. A policeman came to the boy.
'What are you doing here? Chal jaldi,Saamaan samet.' he threatened the boy.
Without an utter, boy folded his belongings in a wide cloth that hadn't been sewed for years, made his pocket gulp the penny box and stood by the side of 'neem' tree which was a few meter away from road's side. He was willing to see what is going on, on the most unappealing place of the world. His pocket was way heavier then it used to be on other days. He was quite sure about his meal under overhead sun and with the sum he had, he could even get food in night too.
An hour passed, students were still standing with their banners resting on ground. Suddenly their chat and buzz interrupted with several jeeps, tailing one another, and somewhere in middle of them, was a red-beacon ambassador. Students were once again on their toes, holding the banner upright. A women in white saree with maroon border came out of the ambassador with red-beacon. Children rushed to greet her and in turn she was greeting them too with a smile.
Boy was staring them all with his lid-less eyes. He couldn't listen to what the lady was saying to those children but their polished shoes were making an attempt to introduce him in the scene too. He almost forgot his heavy pocket. Minutes later, she peeped in her ambassador. Principal made his presence felt at very last moment as he gave her the good bye gesture.
Boot polisher counted the number of 'Jeeps' right passed him till 'chaar'. This is all he could count.
Blue banners held high till the crew disappeared.
'Ryan International School - We strive towards 'Right to Education' was written with silver paint, on that big blue banner.
Boy, with a boot polish store on his back, opened that steel penny-box and took out some coins. He had to buy a new 'dabba' of 'Cherry Blossom' for the next day.

Splash of Love

On the beach, I was holding sand in my palm. I slipped them and they got mingled with million others. Disappeared, Indistinguishable. "Our lives are like those sand in my palm. It slipped and we found ourselves nowhere among million other" I said.

She bent and grasped those beach sand, drenched it with the water from the bottle. Shen flipped her palm and the wet sand fell again. This time distinguishable, different from other lying nearby. We could have made our life distinct from others, but it might missed a splash of love and care.

 I asked, "Who can guess, this is we?"  pointing to those wet sand which were still lying the same way they fell.

'At least we can' she grinned.

Sea was calmly snoring. It has lost the grace it had when we were couples.  

The Only page from the diary of a lost soul

(This post does not expresses my views towards rape victims. This post has taken its shape from the instances that has been mentioned in the interview of a victim's father, published in 'Tehalka' magazine under the title "The anatomy of Rape").

They dragged me, called me a 'Ra**i'. They were ramming my body, one after the other. I was lying naked on the floor, the bruises were overpowering me as badly as they were. Hours later, my body got immune, against their every push, against the bruises i had. My muscle stopped responding and my soul too.

I woke up on the next morning. It was graveyard quietness. They left me with torn identity, torn conscience and a torn vagina. I wore my leftover pieces of clothes and came out to witness the lights of the day after whole 3 days. People were staring at me and at my leftover pieces of clothes that could barely hide anything. It didn't really matter for a 'Ran*i' who has nothing left in her body, untouched, unused.

I was watched by many people with their soul as rotten as mine. Finally, my staggering body got one shoulder. He took me home and handed me to my father.

.........................

Now it's been 8 years. The same story haunts me everyday. I was raped, several times then, by how many people, I don't know. My father lodged a case. I was interrogated several times, being asked with absurd, humiliating questions openly in court, in the presence of those smiling sinners. My own scream had made me deaf long ago. Papa has been fighting for justice for last 8 years. He has been fighting for a lost soul, a dead breathing body.  

Today, I am leaving my Papa alone.

Today, I would be dead, for the one last time.

       

Thaila

I looked at a sky-touching building on the other side of the road. A small part of horizon was hiding behind its floors. 

'Ma, I want to see that Maaal (Mall). What it looks like, I want to see. Shops, people, and my friend told me that there are restras too, I want to see all', I said to Ma while staring at that gigantic building.

'Look at that automatic 'seedhi' . I watch it every day through these glass panes. I want to go, Ma, take me there' I continued. My mother didn't turn to see what i was explaining her, instead she kept pushing me towards the other direction. Direction to 'Pali Bazaar'.

'Big people go there. Your 'sahib' , his 'baccha' 'bibi', all of them come here for shopping. It is not a 'Bazaar' for poor people.' mom replied.

Ma started mending my broken heart's wall, 'Champak seth's shop is much better than these malls. He gave you free chocolate last time. didn't he? He may give you another today'.

'I will not move. I don't want to go to that shop. We have 'Thaila', we can buy few things from Maaaal and can climb floors through automatic 'seedhi'', I kept insisting.

Ma agreed at last, and we started dragging our feet towards the Glass-monster, probably with much lesser pace than we were leaving it behind. Cars were crawling so as to make their way to parking slot and among those cars we made our way to front arena of that mall.

Scorching sun was above our head. Most of the people had their sunglasses with them to reflect the blazing sun away. People were rushing inside with almost nothing in hand but we had 'thaila' and it was a prove that it is we who actually came here to shop, not these big people. 

Ruthless 'world' again proved that I and ma can never be a bit ahead of it as within few seconds I saw a family, like our bade sahib's one, came out with dozens of 'Thailas' in their hand, the colorful ones, and those were even more exciting than my school bags. I lost my interest in our 'thaila' as it had ugly looks with an irregular color patterns and an imprinting

 "502 Pataka Chai"

 accompanied with an another imprint 

"Tan Badan mein taazgi jagaye.". 

Although i wasn't sure of what was written on those mall bags but one thing was clear, one need not to carry a bag for shopping here. 

There was a security guards standing on entry gate counting every bird crossing his head. He returned to his job as soon as we tried to sneak into stomach of that Glass-monster, ignoring him. 

'What do you want?' he asked to my mom.

People were still entering through the door behind us without any interruption. But there was a question for us. 

'Want to buy chaaclate for him' my mom replied in a murmur.

'We sell chocolate. For chaaclates go to your 'Pali Bazaar'. There is nothing for you two here.Go! Go!' he teased which was followed by a laugh by his fellow standing on exit gate saluting passing-by people on his own will.

I grabbed hand of my mom. I wanted to leave that cruel place, a place where my mom was humiliated, a place where eyes following us wondering what the people like us doing here.

I didn't look back while heading back towards Champak 'seth's' shop. I wasn't expecting chocolate from there. I just wanted to fill my mom's 'thaila'.  

Hey Listen, little brother! Soak No More....

I am in my morning assembly and our principle is roaring over us through mike "It's is our 66th Independence day children. 66 years ago, we got what, our freedom fighter dreamed of, INDEPENDENCE". I don't know what that mean. The real thing is, I lost mine on this same day. Today is the first b'day of my little pot of trouble, my brother, younger brother people say. You would think that I am little harsh for a 1 year old child but let me tell you the other side of the story. I bet, after listening to my story, you will donate in child relief fund for me.

That day I was happy and exited as I was going to have a member in the family who is smaller, both in age and size, than me. A member on whom i can rule and paste my orders, just like my parents and older brother used to, on me. He was the only source of saving my 'Leftover grace'. (Leftover Grace - I have lost most of my prestige as there is not even a single neighbor in front of whom i have never cried and there is hardly anyone left in my colony in front of whom my mother has never scolded me.) Now, I was going to be master of one member of my family. My YOUNGER BROTHER, who saw the lights of the day on 15th August. With his arrival our parents got blessed with we 3 brothers in the family, him (Just born), Me (5 year old), Elder brother (17 year old).

We took my momma and my little brother home the next day. Guest, relatives, neighbor etc. etc. kept on visiting our house (not home anymore) till next few days. I was the sole in charge of water and snack serving department. I had to serve both to each of them but nobody seemed interested appreciating me over my noble work. Instead, they were busy grasping a glimpse of my tiny brother who was lying well in his comfort zone, wrapped well by white baby towel, enjoying cushion. They were touching his cheeks, making weird expression and talking to him in the language of some other world. I seriously felt neglected for the very first time in my life and thus i lost my 'leftover grace' within few days of his arrival.

He has the record of peeing over me exactly 8 times without his Diaper, and it comes just after my mom on whom he has an unbreakable feat of peeing more than 100 times i think. There must be a conspiracy against me from both of my brothers as i have never seen him peeing over my eldest brother. 

During my winter breaks, i merely turned into a baby sitter. I had to make sure that he doesn't jump from bed to floor, i had to amuse him all day and whenever he cried i was accused for it. His taste of T.V. program has been peculiar since the day of his birth. He hate 'Tom and Jerry', he cries whenever Jerry bangs Tom's head against anything but he laughs while watching gun fights with dazzling bullets mindlessly piercing head of many which my elder brother likes too. Another prove of that conspiracy theory which my other two brothers have against me. It's been almost a year since i last watched a full episode of 'Tom and Jerry' or 'Dexter's Laboratory'.  I wonder if some day my mother give me order to change his Diapers too. 

This is not all, i somehow lost the love interest of my father as now he don't ask me about my school and studies. Instead, he first prefer to hug this brand new creature of my family and talk to him in some bizarre language and that 'little monster' could only respond him with his 'BLAB BLAB BLAA' and some other clueless words. 

Today we will celebrate 1st birthday of this nuisance creator. I am praying to god, to make him as mature as I was in my second year of birth. 

Hey listen little brother, stop soaking the part of love i deserve. So, soak no more!! :(    

My principal is still yelling over mike. His speech is only meant for the senior secondary student as i and my friends are still looking clueless about what he actually wants to convey. Its a kind request from my side to school authorities also. Don't put us in the things we can't soak. SOAK NO MORE! :)

[ This post is written for Indiblogger's Surf Excel Matic # SoakNoMore Contest ]
         

College Story : Love in college

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A Weird Story

She kept on crawling over wall, and slipping on ground repeatedly. A small boy was staring at her for last few seconds. She was happy as she was blessing him with the same moral, her ancestors blessed the mighty king with. Keep trying, keep trying....never lose hope. She started crawling all over again, on that same wall and fell all over again. 


That boy finally took that little ant, drop her down and squeezed her bottom against the floor. He was just verifying what her school teacher told him that "HCHO i.e. Formic Acid, occurs naturally, and most notably in Ant's sting."  


Fluid stuck her to the floor and every attempt to move, went unnoticeable. Boy ran after examining that fluid, probably to wash his hand, but it doesn't seem that he'll return. 


Poor ant, was now resting her head on the ground,wasting her HCHO biting a piece of paper lying nearby and regretting over decision to pass her ancestors's morals to a 21st century mind.