Thoughts about a woman on the street....


".........."

She was sitting without a shirt bang in the middle of a busy Sunday vegetable market while I was driving past her on the road. Her hair was knotted and looked like a few ropes stuck to her scalp.Some of it hung over her starved chest. A few bananas lay in front of her but she was not interested in eating. Hunger sometimes dies forever when the body is denied food. She never looked at anyone, but people just looked downwards at her and took care not to trample her out stretched legs. There she was sitting in muddy water and just existing like the other street dogs. Even the cows were stealing vegetables and fruits from the vendors, but she just sat there. No one wanted to ask her where she was from, what happened to her, who left her behind or who used her body, made her go out of her mind and left her on the streets to fend for herself. She did not speak a word but her blank eyes and starved skinny body told her sad stories. Horrible stories. About betrayal,hunger,thirst,madness, crime,loneliness,lovelessness,torture,lust and hatred. She probably went through so much in life that shame does not matter,people don't matter,only nothing matters. She has no emotions left because they were so overused that they just evaporated. Like water or petrol. Her body-engine has no more energy left to pull forward. She is just discarded like a rag. Who is even going to take her to a mental asylum? Everybody is bustling in the street, running after buses, trying to get home,buy vegetables at cheaper prices and doing a hundred other things. The following day she disappeared.

I wondered about the woman. The inhuman human being. What happened to her? Did some police man take her to a mental asylum finally? Or did they take her someplace to trade her again. Are there any rich clients who are desperate for their kith and kins' kidney or heart or eye transplant? Would someone harvest her internal organs and throw her out yet once again? I fear for her, because I have my senses. I pray for her, because I have a conscience. Because I also don't want to get my hands dirty, like everyone else...




Short story by Neelima
Read 620 times
Written on 2008-03-28 at 10:06

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binesh
Very nicely written. Good work. Congrats
2008-03-28