From that moment, the calling bell had been ringing persistently. I could hear it from within the folds of my blanket, but the desire to rise was absent. On a holiday morning, there's a peculiar joy in lying down, I enjoy it the most; traversing the expanse of dreams with a casual stroll. Yet, this idleness couldn't persist. The bell continued its relentless chime, and there was no one else in the house but me to open the door.
While opening the door, I encountered a small boy, perhaps eight or ten. He had come seeking refuge, his hand stained with blood. Initially flustered, I couldn't help but inquire, "What happened?" As he lifted his hand during the process of removing his muddy clothes, it became evident that the glass had cut him. I thought to myself, what a curious twist in the tale of human wisdom â someone dropped the broken glass into the thrash can!
"Why keep your hand like this? A little bandage would suffice to stop the bleeding," I suggested.
He replied, "I can't afford a bandage. It happens sometimes. I haven't eaten for two days. Except for this torn shirt and pants, I have nothing. Where can I buy a bandage?"
His words unfolded the tale of his hardship, each uttered sentence another arrow piercing my heart. I hadn't indulged in my favorite meal for a night, but this lad hadn't had a decent meal for two days.
"So, what brings you here?" I asked.
After bandaging his hand, I offered him a piece of bread from the table. He ate with great satisfaction, his laughter bidding farewell. His laughter resembled a captured moment, worthy of a photography award if only I had taken a picture. A while later, I too left. There were errands to run, but an ache lingered. I sat in the car with a heavy heart, the relentless rain adding to my discomfort. Suddenly, a little girl approached, initiating, "Would you like to buy flowers, sir? Just give me ten taka for yourself."
This competitive spirit among children, surviving on ingenuity rather than luxuries, is a common sight. They compete not for grandeur but for survival â sometimes ferrying, sometimes mimicking adults, and sometimes as laborers. I see them, endure their discomfort, sometimes find it unpleasant, and then forget. Yet, that day, I couldn't forget a thing.
Withđ
Šchrysanthemum
