[Characters: Sumanta (pronounce as Shoo-mon-to), Kruti (pronounce as Kroo-tee), Bile (pronounce as Bee-lay)]
Part 1
“You better go and wash your face in a pot full of shit!”
“Oh, get lost! You do not even have a face to wash anywhere.”
“I know what I need to do. Just do not bother me again!”
“Fine, I’m leaving!”
Sumanta slammed the door behind him.
“Ya, go! Damn you! I’m leaving too!”
Kruti too slammed the door behind her and left.
It has been an hour since they left. The house has been silent, motionless and noiseless too since then. The light in the bedroom was glowing. The kitchen tap was probably open, contravening the silence. The living room was dark, cold and at sixes and sevens. Nothing moved – the door, the curtains, the chairs, the fan, the remote, the sofa and little Bile on it. Nothing moved. Bile is Sumanta and Kruti’s eight year old son. He did not understand a single thing that his parents talked about. He was always quiet since morning, when his mother, wake him up in this sorry Sunday morning. He could feel the rain pouring on the terrace and on the balcony. Did his parents take umbrellas with them? He does not know and never in his life had he given an umbrella to his parents while they go out. He was not responsible for that ever! However, today, for a change, he woke up, brushed his teeth, took bath, got dressed up, ate the piece of bread and drank the glass of milk – all by himself. Nobody had to run behind him for each of these daily chores. In fact, none had the time to run behind him today, since it was a sorry Sunday morning. His parents did not have time to look at him today, because they were always cursing and shouting at each other since they opened their fiery eyes. Bile has been a good boy today. He was going through all these chores one by one keeping an eye on his parents – their fists – their high raised voices – their curses until the door banged twice as they moved out of the house. Since then, he sat there, on the sofa knowing not what to do. The sofa gave him some comfort and he almost felt asleep. Probably the rain drops on the terrace kept him awake – he somehow, likes the sound of those drops – synchronized, consistent and inexorable. It has been an hour since his parents slammed the door and left for nowhere!
He was terrified by their behavior today. He was afraid if he would see the faces of his parents again. He was too small to even think what could be the consequences of this sorry Sunday morning. He wanted to cry, but there was none around to comfort or commiserate him. Hence, he did not. He wanted to sleep, since the sofa was too comfortable and he was feeling cold in that dark living room. He was somewhat happy that he was alone in the house and he could do absolutely anything with nobody around to stop him; but he had nothing special to do. He did not plan anything ahead of time. He was feeling clueless too, with a little doubt that the door would bang open once again and his parents might comeback with those false grins on their faces, like always.
Bile spent another hour, sitting on the sofa, with eyes fixed at the door which never opened. The rain has stopped by now. Still, the drops from the leaves were making that sound on the terrace – every other second. He just wanted to cry out aloud and wished to scream to someone; only if there were anyone to hear him and attend to him. He stretched his legs – they were jammed, sitting in that one position for so long a time. This was the first thing that moved in two hours. Slowly Bile got down from the sofa, still watching the door and hoping it would open. But nothing! He stood there for some time, to decide what to do. He could not! He walked to the kitchen to see if the tap was really open. He peeped in. Yes! It was open no doubt, but he was the last person in the house who could reach atop the sink to turn the tap the other way. He just left it as it was – dripping. He looked around. The house was almost haunting to him. The walls seem to squeeze in, reducing the space he had for himself – the whole house! He was still feeling cold, and may be a little hungry too. He went to his room, quietly, as if he was punished for making noise while walking in his own room. He saw the umbrella which his father bought him from the last mela but he could never use it since it did not rain as it is raining now. Quietly enough, he picked up the rainbow colored umbrella and slipped into the slippers and walked towards the main door.
Part 2
“He is tall. He is black. She is combing her hair. He is running for the bus. She is lovely. They are students. She is talking over the mobile. She is wearing a saree. He is riding a bicycle. He is riding a bike. She is making signs to him. They are waiting for the tram. She is busy. He is smart. Those are talking to each other.”
Bile was walking on the wet roads in Kolkata, almost unnoticed, with the rainbow colored umbrella in hand and tiny steps taking him nowhere, but away from the cold, dark and silent house. The road was bustling, but quieter than usual days, when he comes out to go to school. He walked alone – slowly, but surely enough not to return again!
… To be continued.
[To my readers: I know I am not writing much these days and I apologize to all those who await my posts here. Lately, a lot of stories came to my mind which I failed to put down in black and white. This one, is one of the best thoughts that came to my mind and I would love to write this one – long and completely. Part 2 has just started. Will post the same in time! Thanks for your love and support. That is what keeps me going on.]
Part 1
“You better go and wash your face in a pot full of shit!”
“Oh, get lost! You do not even have a face to wash anywhere.”
“I know what I need to do. Just do not bother me again!”
“Fine, I’m leaving!”
Sumanta slammed the door behind him.
“Ya, go! Damn you! I’m leaving too!”
Kruti too slammed the door behind her and left.
It has been an hour since they left. The house has been silent, motionless and noiseless too since then. The light in the bedroom was glowing. The kitchen tap was probably open, contravening the silence. The living room was dark, cold and at sixes and sevens. Nothing moved – the door, the curtains, the chairs, the fan, the remote, the sofa and little Bile on it. Nothing moved. Bile is Sumanta and Kruti’s eight year old son. He did not understand a single thing that his parents talked about. He was always quiet since morning, when his mother, wake him up in this sorry Sunday morning. He could feel the rain pouring on the terrace and on the balcony. Did his parents take umbrellas with them? He does not know and never in his life had he given an umbrella to his parents while they go out. He was not responsible for that ever! However, today, for a change, he woke up, brushed his teeth, took bath, got dressed up, ate the piece of bread and drank the glass of milk – all by himself. Nobody had to run behind him for each of these daily chores. In fact, none had the time to run behind him today, since it was a sorry Sunday morning. His parents did not have time to look at him today, because they were always cursing and shouting at each other since they opened their fiery eyes. Bile has been a good boy today. He was going through all these chores one by one keeping an eye on his parents – their fists – their high raised voices – their curses until the door banged twice as they moved out of the house. Since then, he sat there, on the sofa knowing not what to do. The sofa gave him some comfort and he almost felt asleep. Probably the rain drops on the terrace kept him awake – he somehow, likes the sound of those drops – synchronized, consistent and inexorable. It has been an hour since his parents slammed the door and left for nowhere!
He was terrified by their behavior today. He was afraid if he would see the faces of his parents again. He was too small to even think what could be the consequences of this sorry Sunday morning. He wanted to cry, but there was none around to comfort or commiserate him. Hence, he did not. He wanted to sleep, since the sofa was too comfortable and he was feeling cold in that dark living room. He was somewhat happy that he was alone in the house and he could do absolutely anything with nobody around to stop him; but he had nothing special to do. He did not plan anything ahead of time. He was feeling clueless too, with a little doubt that the door would bang open once again and his parents might comeback with those false grins on their faces, like always.
Bile spent another hour, sitting on the sofa, with eyes fixed at the door which never opened. The rain has stopped by now. Still, the drops from the leaves were making that sound on the terrace – every other second. He just wanted to cry out aloud and wished to scream to someone; only if there were anyone to hear him and attend to him. He stretched his legs – they were jammed, sitting in that one position for so long a time. This was the first thing that moved in two hours. Slowly Bile got down from the sofa, still watching the door and hoping it would open. But nothing! He stood there for some time, to decide what to do. He could not! He walked to the kitchen to see if the tap was really open. He peeped in. Yes! It was open no doubt, but he was the last person in the house who could reach atop the sink to turn the tap the other way. He just left it as it was – dripping. He looked around. The house was almost haunting to him. The walls seem to squeeze in, reducing the space he had for himself – the whole house! He was still feeling cold, and may be a little hungry too. He went to his room, quietly, as if he was punished for making noise while walking in his own room. He saw the umbrella which his father bought him from the last mela but he could never use it since it did not rain as it is raining now. Quietly enough, he picked up the rainbow colored umbrella and slipped into the slippers and walked towards the main door.
Part 2
“He is tall. He is black. She is combing her hair. He is running for the bus. She is lovely. They are students. She is talking over the mobile. She is wearing a saree. He is riding a bicycle. He is riding a bike. She is making signs to him. They are waiting for the tram. She is busy. He is smart. Those are talking to each other.”
Bile was walking on the wet roads in Kolkata, almost unnoticed, with the rainbow colored umbrella in hand and tiny steps taking him nowhere, but away from the cold, dark and silent house. The road was bustling, but quieter than usual days, when he comes out to go to school. He walked alone – slowly, but surely enough not to return again!
… To be continued.
[To my readers: I know I am not writing much these days and I apologize to all those who await my posts here. Lately, a lot of stories came to my mind which I failed to put down in black and white. This one, is one of the best thoughts that came to my mind and I would love to write this one – long and completely. Part 2 has just started. Will post the same in time! Thanks for your love and support. That is what keeps me going on.]
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