Wednesday, August 16, 2006

Mud...





















Photo by - Endevourme

The sun had already started descending down. Slowly the blue sky was fading out into warmer, reddish shades."Three rupees...", he called out, looking at the red stock of tomatoes in front of him. Tomatoes...fresh, juicy and red.The rush hours of the market were over and sideby sellers were beginning to close down.Last year the market was good. Less tomatoes and more price. So this year as the weather was good, so he too planted tomatoes. It was too late to realize that everybody else had done the same thing. When he reached the market with the first stock, it was red everywhere. More tomatoes and less price.
He took out some water and gulped it, ready to call up again seeing a man coming towards him. "how much?", the man asked."3 rupees..."... The man turned around and went away. He sat down. The delicate frame of his younger daughter came to his mind. She had turned nineteen.The relatives had already been talking about finding a suitable boy for her. A marriage...a huge landmark to be crossed. A happy moment started feeling like a heavy load on his mind.He had experienced the burden once, when the elder one got married. Still he had to pay the debts. His house was at stake. "This time...may be if we can sell some of our land...", his wife had said.He shrugged his shoulders and wiped off his forehead.
"Two rupees...", he called out. With every other person coming towards him, his pulse used to grow faster,and every time hopes used to glitter in his eyes. The sky above was now showing last rays of light scattered across and soon everything was to plunge into darkness. He had to start soon to reach back his village now."How much for this?", a man asked. "Two rup...", his voice faltered. "Tomato one rupee...", somebody was shouting farther from the belly. The man went away. He sat down again. Cool breeze had started flowing from west, and whole day's standing in the sun had made him dizzy and now he could feel his pulse thumping in his head. Hardly anything was sold that day and now almost everything was closed. But still he sat there.Now the sky was almost dark and even the last rays of hope were shivering. "Come early...", his wife had said in the morning. He could remember her innocent, dry face, never complaining.She will be waiting now, he thought. Going home, meant he had to tell her about how the day had been, taking away her hopes, pushing her into the bitter darkness again.
"One rupee...", he cried out, looking at the man , wearing dhoti, coming towards him. The man came, took one tomato in his hand and kept staring at it. "four annas? i will take more....", the man said. He was agitated. He took a breath and said "eight annas...not less than that", trying to look as firm as possible.The man looked up at him, put down the tomato and started to leave."eight annas......", he cried. It was loud, and the man turned back, looking at him."go, go away....dont come here....", he cried again waving his hands."four annas...four annas...five paisa......five paisa....", he started laughing out shouting loudly.Suddenly with rage he dashed the tomatoes on the ground and with his feet he started smashing them.Soon it was muddy all over. He stopped, tightly clutched his head with his hands and sat down in that mud, tired.It was cold, the sky was completely dark now, and thousands of stars spread across were looking down, at the red mud...

14 comments:

endevourme said...

Hmmm.....inspired by a short story we had in school....
the pic is wildflower near my house, they are in abundance everywhere
but we hardly notice them :-)

Aditi said...

Yea its the dandelion isnt it?
Interesting short story...maybe the plight of farmers everywhere

Lavender said...

Excellant description here....really an insight into the lives of poor.

Pritika Gupta said...

It made me sad very sad..:(

endevourme said...

#aditi
i dont know what it is.nobody will cultivate them..
they are wild and grow just like that :-)

#shikha
thank yu so much da,
keep visiting :-)

#pritika
dats why i dont like writing short stories naa...

Has to be me said...

That was sad bitter truth. :(

Only wish he were here. Cos tomotoes while in season cost as less as Rs.40/kg (when converted) & when not in season can go as high as Rs.90!

endevourme said...

#has to be me
hi...hi.... that time i was kid da.......
yaa...next time i will visit market before doing a post ;-)

ketki said...

nice post!
but the wild flower from ur garden is nicer!!!!!!!!
keep writtin'!
:)

endevourme said...

#ketki
thank yu :-)
they grow in bulk everywhere, especially in rains..

nirmala said...

hmmmmm...so sad...:-(

beautiful pic....of dandelion...
late tho ihve enjoyed each of ur post..a grt feeling....cant explain...thanx for sharing...

endevourme said...

#nirmala
hmmm...so thats dandelion haa :-)
thank yu for the info...

GuNs said...

Hey !!

Thanks for visiting my blog and leaving a comment. I just came back to check on what you write and I saw this AWESOME short story which made me reminisce those tragic short stories by Munshi Premchand that we studied in Hindi in School.

My heart really goes out to these people when I see them on the street. When we have these labourers come to work in our building, I ask myself what wrong have they done to suffer a fate like that. Will there ever be a way?

Do visit my blog whenever you find time. Always hope to write interesting things.

-PeAcE
--WiTh
---GuNs

endevourme said...

#guns
Hey thank yu for coming here,
ya its - destiny! what else...

Rasika Mahabal said...

Great post!