As the car skidded to a halt at the red light, Amit cursed the little boy who was trying to sell books to the restless people in the vehicles lined up. Had he not barged in in front of his car he would’ve made it through while the yellow light was still on. Now he had to spend a precious three minutes behind the wheel, sitting and fuming!
Kavita observed Amit’s anxiety but kept mum. This wasn’t the time for squabbling with him. Like their marriage, this day too seemed like it was hung on a tiny string. If this deal didn’t get through they could stand losing their jobs, and with it their lifestyle privileges.
Her eyes were fixed on the little boy who seemed somewhere between ten to twelve years old. His clothes were worn, but tidy. He swayed back and forth in the scorching sun from one vehicle to another, showing the books and repeating their prices to everyone, without the slightest irritation.
Many people called for him, glanced through them to while away time and then returned them to him with a cursory shrug and sometimes not even that. Possibly used to it, he didn’t seem offended by this in the least and headed to his next prospective customer.
While the blinking indicator informed them of the remaining 60 seconds, she noticed the boy scurry through the narrow gaps between the vehicles towards the footpath on the other side of the road. There, sitting alone under a tree was a little girl not more than three years old, playing with a doll, alone.
While their car slowly picked up speed, Kavita’s gaze was still set on the two children. The girl’s face beamed at his sight. As he ran up to her smiling and delicately picked her up, she warmly cuddled up with him.
Kavita felt a lump in her throat. ‘These children have such fragile lives. Yet they have each other and seem so much happier. In our case I cannot decide what’s colder, this air-conditioned car or our relation. Whose lives are fragile now?’ She speculated.
This post has been written for Day 3 of the 7 day blogging challenge BAR-A-THON.
Today’s prompt is ‘Fragile lives’.