The rag picker

    A story of a child whom I observed while having tea on the roadside at a stall. Added a hypothetical ending to the story.

    1st Sep 2017
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    Managing to put the sack over his back he toddled few steps with that bleeding ankle

    He didn’t stop he couldn’t instead. With a stick in the other hand he kept looking haphazardly

    Barefoot on the pile of garbage he heard a loud shout from his friend Karim

    He ran relentlessly, looked at the ten rupee note in his left hand and an overwhelming smile of contention

    He bowed down and lifted the stick which seemed heavier now

    Continuing his search he lifted the small pieces of rag and the rotten food wiping his running nose

    He took a look back at his ankle and moved his tiny leg forward

    This time he lifted a bottle of beer and put it into the sack

    The stick was his treasured companion, he never let it break

    The stick got stuck; he pulled it off, bent down the tiny little came in for the rescue

    He picked it up, “Karim come here” he said

    I found this, and Karim gave away a hard laugh

    He ignored, opened the cap quickly scribbled it roughly on his hand

    Its working he screamed with enormous joy and cleaned it carefully with his shirt

    “You got a rubbish pen, what are you going to do with it idiot” Karim added on top of his voice

    He smiled and clipped it carefully on to his shirt, the pen was shining allover

    He walked past Karim quietly picking his sack and the stick

    Mother, look what I got. He showed her the pen

    What are you going to do with this crap; it’s of no use to us

    I loved it, he kept the sack and presented the items he had picked and the mother kept counting

    He went in the gloomy room bent down crawled in and took out a notebook, a used one

    He meticulously held the pen and rubbed it on one corner of an already filled page

    He turned the page, this time he found a larger space

    “Rohit!” he wrote his first words with his magical pen and his soul smiled with the mystic curves by the ink.

    -©Abhishek

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