Children Short Story – A Dusky Evening
Children Short Story – A Dusky Evening
Unlike the friends of his age, Karan worships studying. He is never bothered to mop the floors of the bungalows at the end of their slum street nor clean the cars and scooters for a five or ten bucks. He is the only one in their class who attends the government school every day without fail. He somehow manages to get second hand books and half-used notebooks from the nearest old newspaper junk shop. He often collects pamphlets and leaflets to write on their empty side.
He is 9 years old but he knows many things that his friends never imagine would exist.
Today evening he came back from school. While coming back, he noticed his friends juggling with some coarse stones from the pavement and other girls playing hopscotch. None of his friends asked him to play with them because they know that Karan is not interested. He washed his hands and legs, sat outside his wretchedly poor house and opened his books for studying.
As time passed by, every one on the street starting going inside their houses. But Karan sat there reading his book in the twilight sky. As it grew darker, he came inside and lighted the old kerosene lamp carefully and buried his head in the book.
After sometime his abba came home ducking his way in through the small door. He brought with him a pungent odour of cheap alcohol. He groggily walked to his bed and sat on it heavily. Karan closed his nose and mouth with his hand and fearfully served him a plate of rice and dal. Abba finished his dinner.
“Did you eat?” Abba asked flaunting his rotten yellow teeth.
“Yes, abba.”
“What are you doing there?” He asked pointing at Karan’s book. Karan was frightened of his abba’s demeanor. Looking at his abba, Karan carefully hid his fragile book behind him. His abba came and violently hauled the book from Karan’s small hands. The already worn out book ripped into two halves.
“Why are you bringing bad name to me?” His abba yelled ruthlessly.
Karan’s eyes became wet. With exorbitant force, abba torn the book into three pieces and threw them on the floor. Karan could not take his eyes of the disaster.
“Next time, be careful!” he warned Karan and reclined on his shabby bed and started snoring.
Karan stared at the pieces. Shocked with what happened to his book, he collected all the pieces carefully in the dim lamp light. He brought a piece of rice in his small sensitive hands. Wiping his tears, he smashed the rice to become sticky and attached the pages of the book together. His book was ready but there was nothing to attach the pieces of his broken heart into place.
He saw his abba who is snoring on the bed. Karan started reading the book but this time, turning the pages much more carefully.
__END__
