He was running frantically. The scooty just zipped passed him. A little bit of deliberation from the driver, would have certainly resulted in an accident. Honestly, you couldn't blame the driver. The man, was just running through the middle of the road. The honks were more of a cadence to his ear than cacophony !
Mr. Das had just arrived in the tea shop. An Independence Day morning to an Indian is nothing more than lazing out, a bit of apprehension about how the "country" is being run,some philosophical questions about what independence really means and what it has come to. Basically, Independence Day was all about deriding our basic existential requirement : Freedom. And Mr, Das had just started doing that. He was in a good mood today because Mondays don't usually turn out to be such a lazy one ! After a lot of pestering from his friends, he fished out twenty rupees from his pocket and told Chote, the kid who worked in the tea stall, to bring 4 samosas and 2 cups of tea.
As he was running in a frenzy, the local people stared at him. You usually don't come across a full grown man, running like this on a broad daylight. Many deduced him to be mad. Some of the women commented that he must be a drunkard and immediately started thinking about the pain and hardships which his wife and children must go through. But he, was not even bothered. He was running as if, it was the last run of his life, the run which will promise him the dawn of freedom, the run which will obliterate all the hardships from his life, the run which will make him escape from all the frugal reasons of existence. And then there was a crash.
Mr.Das almost spilled the tea on his white, starched kurta. As the crowd gathered around, Mr. Das gathered some momentum to reach the spot. On his way, he caught hold of a guy, who said that a guy was running and he didn't see that the cycle was taking a turn. The overwhelming speed of the man, toppled down both of them. As Mr. Das walked towards the spot, he heard the mob shouting something, as he saw a guy desperately running. The blood soaked shirt was flapping in the wind. But he didn't even turn back.
He just ran. And while doing so, checked his pocket. No it was safe. The small football which he bought for his 2 year old son. He had promised him for a game of football and he must keep his words.
Mr. Das had just arrived in the tea shop. An Independence Day morning to an Indian is nothing more than lazing out, a bit of apprehension about how the "country" is being run,some philosophical questions about what independence really means and what it has come to. Basically, Independence Day was all about deriding our basic existential requirement : Freedom. And Mr, Das had just started doing that. He was in a good mood today because Mondays don't usually turn out to be such a lazy one ! After a lot of pestering from his friends, he fished out twenty rupees from his pocket and told Chote, the kid who worked in the tea stall, to bring 4 samosas and 2 cups of tea.
As he was running in a frenzy, the local people stared at him. You usually don't come across a full grown man, running like this on a broad daylight. Many deduced him to be mad. Some of the women commented that he must be a drunkard and immediately started thinking about the pain and hardships which his wife and children must go through. But he, was not even bothered. He was running as if, it was the last run of his life, the run which will promise him the dawn of freedom, the run which will obliterate all the hardships from his life, the run which will make him escape from all the frugal reasons of existence. And then there was a crash.
Mr.Das almost spilled the tea on his white, starched kurta. As the crowd gathered around, Mr. Das gathered some momentum to reach the spot. On his way, he caught hold of a guy, who said that a guy was running and he didn't see that the cycle was taking a turn. The overwhelming speed of the man, toppled down both of them. As Mr. Das walked towards the spot, he heard the mob shouting something, as he saw a guy desperately running. The blood soaked shirt was flapping in the wind. But he didn't even turn back.
He just ran. And while doing so, checked his pocket. No it was safe. The small football which he bought for his 2 year old son. He had promised him for a game of football and he must keep his words.
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