The Kid

The moonless night-sky spread like a blanket of darkness. Not even a few stars in sight to break the monotony of the blackness all around. It was just one of the many gloomy nights in the life of the kid who was squatting on the balcony floor of the one-storeyed orphanage in the suburbs of a metropolitan city. The kid, who had a name, but who did not care for it; neither did the love-deprived society he was a part of. A suburb to a metropolitan meant having a neighborhood of some five million people; and still the kid was truly alone. This night was pretty much like any other night for him, just a little darker; just a little more suffocative; just a little more depressing. 

The kid sat listening to the growls of an empty stomach, of his empty stomach. Staring at the vast stretch of nothingness, trying to make out what the aroma lingering in the air was of. It smelt of destruction and chaos. It smelt of helplessness and despair. It smelt of fear and horror. It smelt of the night his village was on fire. It smelt of the night his home had become a furnace. It smelt of the night he had almost lost his life. It smelt of the night he became an orphan.

The kid was gripped in fear; a chill ran down his spine every time he tried to close his eyes. He had goose-bumps all over his arms and legs. And then he saw a sudden flash of light in the distant sky and a few moments later heard an explosion from the same spot. The terrified kid ran for his life. The kid ran to the only place he felt safe, to the only place which was now his home. He ran inside the building, to his room in the ground floor and covered himself with one half of a blanket torn into two and started to weep. His wailings increased as he heard a few more explosions outside. All the memories of that damned night flooded back to him. The kid could see his baba running in the front yard trying to extinguish the fire feasting upon his arched back and lanky legs. All the images he had tried to erase came back to haunt him. The night, that had started with festivities and had ended with mourning. Just a year had passed since that horrific night, but the pain of solitude felt as old as the universe.

The kid’s inconsolable cry finally died down when he heard a clamour of cars and saw a few people walk inside the orphanage with big packets and even bigger cartons. The kid peeked from his room to see kaki maa welcoming the guests inside. One of the guests caught a glimpse of the terrified kid and signaled him to come outside. The kid took calculated steps towards him as he buried his hands deep inside one of the packets and took out a bundle of clothes. The well-dressed man took a packet from his companion and took out toys from it. He handed over the clothes and the toys to the kid and said something the kid could not fully understand. The man repeated “Happy Deepawali, beta!”