Red Roses and Laborious Life

A young flower seller on the side of the road attempts to sell roses to passing commuters in cars and buses.

It was a hot mid-summer day. The sun was blistering with heat, shinning warmly upon the poor souls below. No one dared to step outside of their houses to face the scorching ball of fire. Only the destitute and indigent were seen, being carried by their dainty legs, for the sake of earning a living.  The weather showed no sign of mercy as it emitted an incalescence wave that made breathing a strenuous act for the beings.

In this scorching weather, walked a young girl in her twenties along the footpath of a busy road. Her skin was bronzed, tortured by the continuous exposure of the sun. Her messy hair and dirtied clothes showed a sure sign of rough living. Her shirt was torn at places, revealing her tanned skin underneath. At times, she wiped her sweat drenched face from the corner of her dupatta that hid her curly black hair from this atrocious society.

Her eyes were tinged with a color of silvery moon.  They were very grey, like all the colors of happiness had been sucked out of them. Her eyes remained firm and focused, yet grief and loneliness in her eyes was evident.

Her grey eyes had witnessed many unpleasant episodes of life therefore hardened look and fathomless gaze depicted the mature side of her personality. She could be compared to a child, who merely had skipped childhood and was forced to enter adult life. She worked tirelessly all day to find some form of nourishment for her children. She carried a basket full of red roses to sell to the affluent people of this world, who passed one by one in their lavishing high speed cars.

As the traffic light blinked red, she ran to the nearest car. Running her hands on the window of a black car, she spoke in a breathy voice. She begged the man sitting in his posh car. She told him about her poor state, her hungry children and a crippled husband whom she had left at home. The man full of pity handed her a ten rupee note in exchange for the red rose.

The traffic light shifted from red to yellow and then in the spur of a moment turned green. The girl happily thanked the man and returned back to her usual spot on the footpath. As she stood there, her stomach made growling noises indicating her hungry self. She took the money that she earned out of her pocket to give it a quick glance. She had taken neither a piece of bread nor a drop of water since morning. Her rumbling stomach demanded food, but instead of using the money to satisfy her needs she placed the money back in her pocket. She had no time to worry for herself; she had a family to feed at home.

 

This piece of writing is an eloquent of class inequality in our country. The rich continue to get richer while the penurious families even do not get food and clean drinking water as the elite often ignore the interests of common people.



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