Monday, October 27, 2008 | |

Short Story - Huts and Skyscrapers

He built towering skyscrapers. A dozen or so belonged to his mighty empire. He had money, a sea of it. He had the most beautiful wife in the world – the haughty crown of a gold statue. He had children, healthy and hearty. He had friends, thousands of them, clad in money, guilt and vanity and the whole world of things good, bad and useless and useful and dirty and nice and magical and simple.

Everyday he went to bed at midnight but his sleep came to him nearly in the morning.

A few miles away from that towering symbol of success, lived a poor rickshaw puller. He could not afford his meals daily. He had no wife. He had no children. He had no friends. He had no money. He had no suits. He had no house. He slept on the footpath but his sleep came to him the moment he closed his eyes daily.

Written by Parvez Ahmed on the 28th of October, 2008. The portrait was painted by Rembrandt Harmensz van Rijn.