aniruddha pathak

Seeds of Hatred

In Uncategorized on September 24, 2014 at 12:00

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Team : The Maverick X

Read the first 10 posts here :

Part 1 of story

Part 2 of story

Part 3 of story

Part 4 of story

Part 5 of story

Part 6 of story

Part 7 of story

Part 8 of story

Part 9 of story

Part 10 of story

His life was full of struggles. Ageing father and 4 sisters who were yet to be married. He never understood why he was fed first while his mom and sisters went to sleep on an empty stomach. Constant bashing by his dad every night had pushed him to a a point of no return already. His dad stayed drunk most of the time, and it was only his mom and sisters who were managing the expenses by doing odd jobs.

World was different when he was with his friends playing marbles. Looking through the hole in the wall of government school, trying to memorise the numbers, the poems. Running over to the nearby pond and jumping in naked, getting back home to the comfort of food and sleeping in his mother’s lap. Being the youngest had its own advantages, he thought. It did not stay that way for long, he too had to contribute as the pressure on keeping the house running was mounting and mother ewas getting old.

The video parlour guy was his only friend, since he could see bollywood movies there, his only pastime now. Bollywood is a drug, perhaps even worse, for the hallucination stays longer, and the person it effects some times stays in a state of trance. Thats what had happened to him, always in a state of trance. The work at Bombay dockyard was making him stronger, and the movies were fuelling his passion. His passion to explore the world, like the way heroes did. He was saving for it, he wanted to run away one day away from this mess in Kurla.

That day he wanted to rush home early. It was a Friday and there was a new movie, yes his favourite Amitabh Bachhan was starring in it. While returning from work trying to find his way, jumping over the broken bricks laid in the narrow lane, he could see a mob running towards him. He was shocked, his mind stopped working. Before he could figure out, he could hear someone scream. He ran in the opposite direction, heart pumping, clenched fists. Every now and then he would turn back to see how close the mob was.

“What the hell happened? Who are these people? Why are they here in a chawl?” It was not the time to ponder over all this so he kept running till he reached the pipeline. He hid himself behind one of the unused pipes. From that point he could see silhouettes of people with sticks, rods and swords. “what were these guys up to?”

At that tender age of 15 he could not understand HATRED. His mom had taught him, that people were generally good at heart.

“What made people kill each other? and what did religion had to do with all this?”

Once convinced that the mob had left, he rushed towards his house, only to see it burning. He was stunned, his feets froze, his dad was crying while holding him, but he could not hear a word. That scene blinded him for a second and next moment he saw himself in the hospital. “Trauma” they said.

What this ensured was a lasting imprint was left on a tender heart. A PM was killed and so was the child inside Aryan!

 

“Me and my team are participating in ‘Game Of Blogs’ at BlogAdda.com. #CelebrateBlogging with us.”

 

 

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