The Fruit BowlA Story by Fathima Fara A little boy is amused by the sight of richness actually finds happiness in simple things Mukesh sat on the park bench and hugged himself tight as he felt cold. His feet were blue without shoes and he had goose bumps on his skin, most of which were exposed through the torn shirt. He stretched the over-sized pants till his toes, clutching it with his toes, to save himself from the cold painful weather. He was just three years old and played and slept in the park most of the time until he was ushered out of the park at dusk by the security guard. His widowed mother, working as a maid would then come, pick him up and they both would go to the nearby construction site where they found themselves a little place to stay among all other homeless. That particular day, he turned his head in response to a squeaky noise. He looked around to find a little girl, definitely younger than him �" he thought, in a cute frock and squeaky sneakers, giggling and running around. Mukesh too giggled innocently as he found it amusing. The little girl’s mother was sitting on the lawn, with a bowl in her hands. The girl would run few steps, go back to her mom and come back with her mouth filled with “something” from the bowl. Mukesh was curious about the bowl and the “something” it had. When she came near him again, he asked, “What are you eating?” Little girl: Ma-na-na Mukesh: Manana? The little girl nodded, smiled and ran back to her mother again. Mukesh said the word “manana” again and again in his head. It was dusk and Mukesh ran to his mother as soon as he saw her coming and hugged her legs tight. She fed him with the leftover rice from the house she worked in and she just drank a stomach full of tap water. She took an old rag and wrapped her son for a little warmth. Lakshmi had two sarees which she alternated for wearing and using as a blanket for Mukesh. Mukesh whispered to his mom “Amma, I want manana.” Lakshmi had no idea what her son was telling. She just said, “Okay. Sleep now.” Mukesh dozed off mumbling manana. Next morning, Lakshmi untied the knots in her sarees and counted “One…three…four…nine…ten”. The coins jingled in the hand which she tied to her saree corner again. When she came back from work, she bought two bananas for Mukesh. She had asked her employer what manana was. As usual, Lakshmi picked up Mukesh from the park. Mukesh grinned and closed his eyes as he was asked to by his mother. Lakshmi counted “Three…two…one…Mananaaaa”. He opened his gleaming eyes and within seconds, his face was laden with disappointment. When Lakshmi asked what happened with a loving voice, he said sadly, “The little girl was eating from a bowl, with a sharp spoon.” Lakshmi knew what her son was talking about. She took her old aluminium vessel, cut the banana with her fingers into small pieces, took a small hair bobby pin, washed it, poked it into the cut pieces and fed him. Though Mukesh was now satisfied with the look which almost resembled the little girl’s fruit bowl, he felt that the taste was not as good as before and it failed to fill him. His doting mother, having understood her son, gave him the other banana which he happily ate. With no bowl, no fork! Lakshmi's heart felt light seeing him sleep happily with a smile on his innocent face!
© 2016 Fathima FaraAuthor's Note
Reviews
|
StatsAuthor
Fathima FaraBengaluru, Karnataka, IndiaAboutAn aspiring writer and a compulsive and greedy reader. more..Writing
|
![[send message]](https://www.writerscafe.org/images/mail.png){kind=small}
![[befriend]](https://www.writerscafe.org/images/friend.png){kind=small}
Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Read Request
My Library
Flag Writing