It was flaming noon.
The sacrosanct sun was on its timeless journey as ever. A passing façade wizened by ageless patience. Lost in thought.
Maybe remembering the constellation that caught fire eons ago. Maybe in silent communion with some pregnant clouds that yearned to birth when the time was right.
It felt powerless today. It felt like trying to chasten a few orphaned clouds that careened in haste. A déjà vu moment. The journey seemed just a fading reflection. Limited by orbit. Trapped in its own myth.
On mortal earth though, the little shadow lengthened. Then lurched forward.
He was not a myth though. He was not limited. His journey was different. He needed no direction. He was a natural. The burning sun and the glazed earth were beyond his comprehension. Yet he too was drifting across time and space.
He roamed the streets of solitude. Especially when the pavements overflowed with people. He sometimes let out muted screams. Especially when he realized that the cacophony of voices around could never hear him. It seemed like he never existed. Except for the street dogs when he curled up next to them. In the darkness. And under the countless stars.
But he was happy sometimes and sometimes he got lucky. Days when the bins overflowed. Allowing him the fragrance of wasted food left over by bloated stomachs. It did still the hunger. Just for that nanosecond. Still a blessing though. And a promise for the morrow. He never complained. A trespasser on earth.
Life seemed all a blur. Time was a tide. There was never a twinkling thought. To reflect. To remonstrate. It was all ordained. Rain or shine the nothingness of fate was copious in its wake. He had tried odd jobs too. But too far and too few. The pandemic took all away. The cloak of dignified existence was an illusion he could not simply afford.
He had no choice today. He had never done it before. He had to do it today. The hunger pangs hung him alive. Sweating inside a closed palm, the other arm outstretched, he lisped. To one and any near and far. Plaintive psalms for alms that had no grammar to stagger. All pretense washed he raised his voice and let himself be heard. Some benevolent gazes gave him strength. The feet started to walk the miles of hope.
Rounding the corner, he almost ran into me. He looked at me askance. At close quarters I shared a glance in silent empathy. I wished I could make a little difference.
The dirty façade stilled my step. Just for that that one, one, one little moment. I tried to reach out. But he was gone.
Leaving me Shameless. Nameless. Faceless.
And a Pauper of Words.
இதே கருவை வைத்து நானும் ஓர் சிறுகதை எழுதியிருக்கிறேன்.
குடும்பத்தால் கைவிடப்பட்ட ஒரு வயசாளி, வயிற்றை வருத்தும் பசி என்னும் அனலில், வழிப்போக்கரிடம் கையேந்தத் துணியும் கணம்.
அதுவரையில் சுட்டெரித்த சூரியன், அவ்வறியவரின் நிலையெண்ணி கண் கலங்க.. சட்டெனச் சூழ்நிலை மாறி கோடைமழை. அந்தோ வழிப்போக்கரெல்லாம் அவரவர்க்கு ஒதுங்க ஓரிடம் தேட, இவ்வயசாளி நிற்குமிடம் நிமிடத்தில் நிறைகிறது. இவர் நிலைகண்டு அவர்கள் முகம் முறிக்க, முந்தைய கணத்தில் இரந்தேனும் இருந்திடத் துடித்த அவர், தனக்கென இருந்த இடத்தையும் தந்துவிட்டு மழையோடு மறைகிறார்.