![]() I crossed the road and stood beside the young girl. It’s hard to describe what I felt at this moment. I had probably spent more money in the last three hours than what this family had seen in weeks. The boring movie, the glitzy restaurants, the shiny people, my own gloominess – it was so unreal, so immaterial, so fake in front of this stark reality. Standing there, I realise that I had just stepped out of a parallel universe. The mother keeps the bucket of water securely inside the little shed and covers it with a metal plate. She smiles, holds the toy over his head, and starts making sounds and gestures to distract him. The young girl too runs back to her brother, whose cries have been drowned in the honking all around them. She manages to tighten the screw just in time and carries her bucket of drinking water back, all this while earning the wrath of people in cars who have suffered a delay on her account. As she is doing this, the truck starts moving ahead slowly amidst the incessant honking, but she doesn’t give up. The mother panics and starts to close the pipe. Then, the signal turns green and the drivers start honking in practiced unison. Meanwhile, as the precious few seconds on the signal tick away, the young girl pleads with as many people as she can to buy the pens – some oblige, some ignore, others yell. Meanwhile, the mother stands behind the water tanker and turns the screw that controls the flow of water with all her strength. She rushes to the cars nearby and knocks on their windows. The girl also jumps into action with her toy in one hand and a bag full of pens in another. The mother looks at a water tanker that has stopped at the signal and quickly picks up an empty bucket. I notice that the sister’s efforts have paid off and the infant’s cries begin to subside.īut just then, the signal at the junction changes to red. I see that this little patch under the flyover is perhaps their home, comprising a stove, one metal trunk, some clothes, and a shed made using worn-out saris. Behind them is a woman, likely their mother, who is washing clothes with a bucket of water by her side. There’s a half-eaten bowl of dal-rice and a dusty old doll next to the girl. A young girl, five or six at best, most likely the infant’s sister, tries to comfort the infant with a toy. On the other side of the road, under the flyover, lies a naked crying infant on a thin piece of soiled cloth. As I battle this olfactory assault, I am distracted by a distinct sound.Īlso read: Fear of the Dark: The 9-Minute Lights-Out Call There’s a pile of garbage a few yards away. As I stand there, I realise how much the place right outside the perfume-scented mall stinks. I wait at the main gate of the mall for my cab. ![]() I figure the wounds inflicted by one bad movie can only be cured by another good one. But I try not to express my emotions at this point, for I may be dismissed as a cynic who fails to appreciate the finer pleasures of life.Īfter a quick lunch at an unremarkable fine-dining restaurant inside the mall, I decide to deprive my friends of my company. Stepping out of this literal and metaphorical darkness into the light of day, I find myself in another equally insipid world. I, the square peg in this round hole, seriously reconsider my friendship with them. My friends are still laughing and discussing the oh-so-funny one-liner (yup, singular). United by a traumatic experience, this last bunch exits together. I look around and find solace in the fact that I am not alone – there are a few more dejected faces slouched in their seats. I have just spent the last two hours watching a rather dull, run-of-the-mill sequel part of a superhero movie franchise. It feels as if an aircraft has just touched the runway and every minute spent sitting from here on is a minute wasted. ![]() ![]() The lights come on in the theatre and suddenly hundreds scamper towards the exit sign. But it was all coming back now as I sank deeper into an REM abyss… I think I’ve seen them before, only I couldn’t remember when or where. Walking in the scorching heat on the highway. That image – a mother and her two young kids. I tried to suppress it with a binge-watching spree, but it’s coming back now. Something has been bothering me all day, ever since I watched the news bulletin. Random, meaningless visuals of disparate events. I mean, today.Īs I close my eyes, a portal opens in my brain. I must sleep now, so I can get some work done tomorrow. I turn away from the mirror and look at my watch – it’s almost dawn. ![]() I have Netflix-ed and chilled so much that I’m exhausted. This is not the apocalypse I had imagined. ![]()
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