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June 9, 2008

They were lying under the blanket of stars. He was gloomy and for the first time in three years he was missing home, his village and the tree he would play under with his friends. What sort of life was that he thought where he had to sleep on the pavement? Collect the garbage or commit petty crimes for survival. Besides he had to deal with the harassment of police officials.


At that moment he hated his father because his mistreatment forced him to flee home. He always believed that his father loathed him. It wasn’t only him; his father disliked literally everyone including his own self. When he couldn’t get the marijuana he would curse his need and aching body then he would beat him up. His mother would invariably receive thrashing when she would try to rescue him from his violent beating.



His gaze was fixed on the sky lit with countless stars; whenever he would feel down she would descent into his thoughts. She was his neighbor in the village and he used to secretly love her.  


“Will she ever accept me – a street boy – if I asked her to marry me?” He thought and then looked at his dirty clothes, untidy hair and nails filled with grime. He studied his calloused hands. How can these hands, which pick up garbage and pockets can touch her smooth and clean skin? How can these filthy fingers play with her silky, long hair?


He was thinking about her but tonight her thoughts failed to lull him into sleep. Tonight he couldn’t set aside the reality from an imagination.


She is a princess. Not meant for someone like me. He sighed.


His friend heard him sigh and asked, Again thinking about her?”


“You think she’ll marry me if I stay clean and start tilling land like her father and brothers do?”


“There is no harm in dreaming.” He said totally bored.


A few moments of silence past then his friend continued, “You want some glue?”


An offer of glue at that time meant he needed him. He thought every person had a little bi in him but his friend once said it’s all about disposable needs… like a cola bottle. People drink and then dispose off the bottle. That’s what he would do with him every time.


“Yes, I need glue.”


He sniffed; the stars in the sky seemed to dance right in front of his eyes. He closed the window of feelings. He could see nothing but the color blue as his friend opened up the can of worms.

5 Comments leave one →
  1. June 11, 2008 5:56 am

    Very interesting – The man is definetely BLUE – very apt description of the colour – SHAABAASH!

  2. kashkin permalink
    June 11, 2008 9:19 am

    well done Ayesha for bring out another klassic tale….

  3. shobig permalink
    June 12, 2008 8:22 am

    Is that a slip? Should it not have been titled ‘glue’ instead of ‘blue’? 😛

  4. Ayesha permalink
    June 13, 2008 9:39 am

    Shobig, I am trying to write a “color series” so had to stick to the title “Blue”… the first title that came to mind was scars

    NO, there is no slip… 😛

  5. Ayesha permalink
    June 13, 2008 9:40 am

    Thank you so much Nadeen and Kashkin for your continous support 🙂

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