Page 148 - Udaan 2019-2021 Final
P. 148

JUST A GAME OF DICE

                                                                - -BIDISHA BHAR, IX/X

             The  city  was  burning  in  the  Sun.  So  was  my  temper.  For  the  last
             three    months,      the   duration     of   my   night    shifts   had    increased       by

             three    whole     hours     but   there    was    still   no   sign   of   an   increment.

             After    a   heated     argument        with    my    boss,    I   stepped      out   of   my

             office,  only  to  be  welcomed  by  the  deafening  sound  of  the  traffic
             and the blinding rays of the sun. To add to my miseries, the buses

             of   the   ‘City    of   Joy’    had     organized       a   strike    on    that    day.    A

             perfectly imperfect morning.
             After  ten  minutes  of  walk  through  the  congested  lanes  of  Kolkata

             towards      the   Metro     Station,    each    and    every    cell   of   my   body    had

             officially  surrendered  and  my  eyes  refused  to  look  anywhere  but

             at   the   inviting   ice-cream      cart.   Although      I   was   not   a   great   fan   of
             ice   creams,      within    a   minute     or   so,   I   was   having     a   mango      ice

             cream     to   glory.   Just    then    I   looked   up   to   see   a   father-son      duo.

             Signs    of   poverty      were    prominent        on   their   bodies.     The    father’s

             rough     but   strong     hands      showed       signs    of   struggle     but   when      I
             looked at the son, tears rolled down

             the child's dusty face and his thin

             hands pulled his father with all the
             might, towards the ice cream stall.

             I gobbled up my ice cream as fast

             as I could and found myself taking
             out few hundred rupee notes from

             my wallet and giving it to the father,

             who accepted it after many protests.

             As I crossed the street, I saw a
             happy father and an even happier

             son having brightly coloured
                                                                         --ARYAN PAUL, XI/XII
             ice creams with equally bright smiles on their faces.
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