The Bench

                                                 
  She looked in the distance. It was quiet everywhere.Her legs were paining. The stench and the deserted look around compelled her to move faster.The fading light of the distant sun threw a morbid pall  on the surroundings.The vehicles zooming by disorienting  the settled muck and dust.She was going for her evening walk.She always took the narrow inner road along side the main road which lead to her destination.On the way she came across  the dwarfish dense trees lining the both sides of the road.Red wispy flowers bloomed on them.They were fragile to touch.She almost caressed them and plucked a few holding them very carefully in her hand.They turned soft in the dark and moist hollow of her closed palm.But she carried them to the end of her walking point. Here she would sit on a bench which had a huge tree over- shadowing it.It was her fixed resting place till her way back from her evening walk.The flowers had wilted away but she did not feel like throwing them away.She let them be by her side.
sometimes the bench would be occupied by some other person  which upset her.The bench was stratigically placed in such a way that it made her feel absolutely secure and happy.The  vast network of branches formed a canopy over her head.She felt royal.The ground before her was vast and wide.It was dry dusty and deserted being occupied for a few hours only during the evenings by the childrin of the close by quarters.The crowd was a mixed one.Some seemed to be coming from affluent families while the others towed them.They looked undernourished lean and untidy though they were attired in the same set of clothes which the other group was wearing.The  fag end of their  jeans were in tatters and the pockets  looked grimy..she looked at their foot -wear which were  in stark contrast to what they were wearing.They wore slippers which were worn out and in tatters and that  clearly showed that the clothes they were wearing did not belong to them but might have been the used ones passed on to them by their employers.They assembled there  in various groups to play cricket.The bench gave her a vantage point to have a pan view of their game.Usually the rich boys always took the position on the crease while the poorer ones were eternally on the fielding side.The field being vast the ball would soar beyond the boundries which sent the lean boys scurrying along.To her it seemed a wild chase which disturbed her.But the fielders did not show a bit sign of harrasement or  disenchantment with the game.The boys at the bat would dodge the 'out' sign whenever they played fowl.It seemed an absolute drudgery to her.Meanwhile she took her eyes off them and slowly opened her bag to take out her note-book.To-day she had made up her mind to scribble something meaningful..The pages fluttered in the soft breeze.She took a deep breath and sighed soulfully but her brain was blank.She looked at her pen it was quite slim not appealing enough to hold it for bringing out something  worthwhile. It was all her daughters doing.She always led her to shops where year round you get one with one free and there she picked for her two big plastic jars of thin bodyless ball pens. That time she became very happy that she would never fall short of ammunition while she was in a critical mood of creation.But She would also at the same time ask her daughter why she got those fat shiny and tempting ones for herself.She would simply say that they were  few while she had plenty.Oh ya she would pat  her forehead for her dense brain and look at her daughter with pride for her brilliance and large heartedness.But now this very tool was becoming a hinderance to her budding thoughts.She fumbled in her bag may be she could find some old one which could inspire her .But instead she got hold of some tidbits which she usually carried along  to munch upon .She took out the bits to check when some fell from her hand.To her amazement she saw a bushy squarrel  appear all of a sudden and grab the piece and not  run away but nimble on it so ferociously.She tried to check from where it came.The place was barren excepting the huge trees but she never saw any movement there.It was quite interesting.She took out some more bits and scattered them around to see the reaction.she saw some stir in the branches and there came a couple of them rushing forward to grab as much as possible.She got absorbed in the scene to the extent that she forgot to take up her writing mission.She tried to lure the squarrel a little nearer by throwing the bits a little closer.They dared closer and closer and after grabbing the bit hopped away to nibble on it.They were fascinating ,their feverish movements and their sleek snouts broke the bits which disappeared inside their  still  tummies.
It was getting late and she could not make a head or tail of her vacuous ideas which seemed to be lodged nowhere in her wayward brain.The flowers lying on her side were now completely limp.She threw a pathetic look on them and gave them a decent burial by putting them in a nearby pit  which had some wild plants growing around and in it.The  concrete ribs of the bench hurt her thighs and she wanted to stretch them out. There seemed to be no use for lingering on.She zipped her bag putting back the crumpled note -book and the stick pen along side her reading glasses.They once again nestled in the secure pocket of the bag rest assured that they would be aired the very next day at the same time and on the same verduous bench creating a charm around it with their prospective writer ,philosopher and  scholar.