He got down at the bus stop and started to walk hurriedly towards his rented apartment, which he still had access to for another night. The roads were deserted and puddles of water could be seen everywhere as it was pouring with rain for quite some time now. But he walked on, unbothered even by the slightest from it.
He stopped at a grocery store to buy a vial of rat poison. While he was taking out the last hundred rupees note from his wallet to pay for it, his gaze fell on his ex-wife’s picture who was probably having dinner at some luxurious restaurant with their child and her new husband at this time. He slid the vial in his breast pocket and walked on ignoring the tempting aroma of superbly spiced freshly fried bread pakodas from a stall nearby which would have been his dinner if it would have not been his last day. Almost nearing the corner, he heard his father’s favourite song being played at a house that he was crossing. It brought tears in his eyes. He had lost his father just a month ago. He took a deep breath and smiled. ‘Don’t worry. All your sufferings will end today’ he said to himself.
He reached his apartment and sat on a chair kept beside the window. The chair where he had sat and dreamt of becoming a real estate mogul back when he had belief and aspirations. He looked at his palm lines. ‘After all that palm reader was correct, it was indeed an impossible task. I can never be more than a failure.’ He said to himself.
He took out the vial of poison to take a gulp but stopped on hearing a loud thud from outside. He glanced out of the window and saw a small boy hammering concrete blocks from the remains of a demolished house. Though the boy was completely drenched, tired and the hammer was too heavy for him, he kept hammering the blocks one after the other. Curiously he approached the boy ‘Hey what are you doing? Where is your father?’ He asked. ‘I don’t have a father’ Replied the boy uninterestingly ‘I am breaking these blocks to take out the remaining pieces of iron rods from them’ Belonging to the construction field himself, he understood that the boy was taking out the remaining pieces of metal rods(rebars) which had once been the supporting structure of the now-demolished house. ‘And why would you do such a thing?’ He asked confusedly. ‘So that I can sell them to the scrap dealer. He pays two rupees for each one of them’
‘Come back tomorrow then, the weather’s pretty harsh and you cannot possibly think of breaking all these blocks in a single day!’ he suggested. ‘Why can’t I? I have to, otherwise, they’ll throw these remains by tomorrow morning and anyways I have to work at another site tomorrow. I’ll finish here and take food home for my mother. She’s not well.’ Replied the boy with determination. He stood there for a minute and then took out the vial of poison. ‘Hey boy, I have to return something to the grocery store. Let’s have pakodas after that.’ He suggested with a broad smile.
Written by Dhruv Ilwadhi
Dhruv Ilwadhi is a published author and entrepreneur of 23, residing in Indore, India. His debut novel ‘Ganji to Armani: A Magical Tale of Love’ sold over 500 copies last year and is still selling on major e-commerce platforms like Amazon. He believes that stories provide a hidden solution to all problems and thus decided to take his passion for writing to a professional level. He feels that there is a compelling need of positive work in these tough times. He writes to motivate, entertain and inspire.
Week 24, June 2021
