A busy day ended and I started walking to my car in the hospital parking. With the setting sun in my eyes, I saw this 7 or 8 year old boy standing at the hospital entrance speaking to her younger sister. (1/9)
Their father and an old lady, probably their grandmother, sat on their haunches nearby.
The little boy had probably returned after visiting his ailing mother who was admitted in our hospital.
(2/9)
The little boy had probably returned after visiting his ailing mother who was admitted in our hospital.
(2/9)
The visit of the young fella had coincided with lunch being served to admitted patients. This stroke of luck had given him a chance of a lifetime. It was now his turn to describe the menu to his younger sister. (3/9)
“There was dal. There was roti. There was dahi….”
He spoke like a lover who has just won a duel. His sister listened to him in awe. Her half open mouth and shining eyes had an element of surprise.
“What else was there?” She asked nervously. (4/9)
He spoke like a lover who has just won a duel. His sister listened to him in awe. Her half open mouth and shining eyes had an element of surprise.
“What else was there?” She asked nervously. (4/9)
Her golden brown hair a sure sign of poor nutrition, added misery to her innocent face.
“And there was achaar,” he continued with a snick of his tongue.
Every savoury which was being revealed by him widened the little girl’s eyes even more. (5/9)
“And there was achaar,” he continued with a snick of his tongue.
Every savoury which was being revealed by him widened the little girl’s eyes even more. (5/9)
I kept listening to them. The click of the tongue, the warmth of the roti, the exact salt in the sabzi- the good food had turned him into a master story teller. Her sister’s face was slowly falling apart. The excitement was turning into anxiety. (6/9)
Her sparse eyebrows raised like parentheses. She was beginning to realise what she had missed. The story teller continued. By now darkness had engulfed his face. His brittle voice followed me into the car park. (7/9)
The girls fallen face, the description of food and an unthinkable misery. I started my swanky car and drove out of the main gate. Right there he was smiling out of a giant poster. He was being thanked for free vaccines. His big pouty lips twisted into a smile. (8/9)
I drove into the darkness and promised myself to forget the young boy, his sister’s miserable face and the meagre food he described. I dreamt of them that night.
(9/9)
#Poshan
(9/9)
#Poshan
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