Sunday, December 28, 2008 | | 0 comments

Short Story - The Wishes Unfulfilled

Short Story

December 25, 2008 | 10.20 AM | Version 1.0

Short Story - The Wishes Unfulfilled

Poor Moni, as was her nickname in the many households where she worked could not sleep peacefully today. Her children had gone to sleep crying for new clothes. This thought seemed to rend her heart the whole night and kept her awake. How poor and miserable she was, that she could not provide her children with new clothes for Id? Even she did not have anything nice for them to eat. She had some flour but no sugar and her husband returned at midnight with his hands being empty. She did not like to quarrel with him and kept quiet, but she knew that he had gambled the money he had earned.

The whole night she kept on thinking and thinking – why were they like this? Why could not her children have clothes and sweets like the rich ones? What was her fault? Perhaps, she had erred somewhere and God was punishing her but what was the fault of the innocent children? Did not God see the rags they wore? Did not God see their thin dusty bodies? Did not he say that all are his children? Then why was this that some of his children remained hungry while others had so much to eat that they even feed their dogs with costly food which they can’t even dream of purchasing?

And the fog that bordered the houses in this cold month of November slowly lifted her veil. The cars, all polished and clean began to speed past her house with well-adorned and plump children and with happy faces and jovial hearts. They were all going with their parents towards the prayer grounds. Her children also had risen from their sleep; they had forgotten about the clothes.

A few minutes later her son said to his small sister, “Hey, isn’t it Id today! Come, let’s play.”

And they were playing with a puddle of mud outside their small hut under the wide eyes of “God – The Great.”

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December 8, 2008 | 5.35 AM IST | Version 0.1

Short Story - The Wishes Unfulfilled

Poor Moni, as was her nickname in the many households where she worked could not sleep peacefully today. Her children had gone to sleep crying for new clothes. This thought seemed to rend her heart the whole night and kept her awake. How poor and miserable she was, that she could not provide her children with new clothes for Id? Even she did not have anything nice for them to eat. She had some flour but no sugar and her husband had come home at midnight with his hands being empty. She did not like to quarrel with him and kept quiet, but she knew that he had gambled the money he had earned.

The whole night she kept on thinking and thinking – why were they like this? Why could not her children have clothes and nice sweets like the rich ones? What was her fault? Perhaps, she had erred somewhere and God was punishing her but what was the fault of the innocent children? Did not God see the rags they wore? Did not God see their thin dusty bodies? Did not he say that all are his children? Then why was this that some of his children remained hungry while others had so much to eat that they even feed their dogs with costly food, which they can’t even dream of purchasing?

And the fog that bordered the houses in this cold month of November slowly lifted her veil. The cars, all polished and clean began to speed past her house with well-adorned and plump children and with happy faces and jovial hearts. They were all going with their parents towards the prayer grounds. Her children also had risen from their sleep; they had forgotten about the clothes.

A few minutes later her son said to his small sister, “Hey, isn’t it Id today, come let’s play.”

And they were playing in a puddle of mud outside their small hut under the wide eyes of “God – The Great.”

Saturday, December 6, 2008 | | 0 comments

Short Story - The People Who Killed Him

short storyHe was writhing in pain. They were howling in happiness. He was taking his last breaths with great discomfort and with sorrow and with tears. They were enjoying his pain as was by nature built into them – enjoying the pain of others.

A large crowd was now around him and more were joining to gain a view of the pain.

His fault? The creeping creature’s fault was that while moving he got in front of their views. His fault was the wrath of the fault of nature – the blood seeking psyches of humans.

And there were frantic shouts. And they took into their hands whatever they could find – sticks and rods. And they thrashed him with delight.

And someone whispered that he was taking much time to die. He suggested that they burn this ugly one. And they splashed petrol on that poor soul and burnt him to death. They gave him an expeditious death.

Short story written by Parvez Ahmed on December 5, 2008.