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HORI

 The  days are passing by and  the  time is wilting away...it blooms only in my dreams  when it  loses its dimensions,  treading  back and forth . forming new equations yet weaving on the past moments. 

The past is etched in her consciousness. In her waking state it vanishes and gets dissolved in the present moments which in any case are as mundane as can be.  It's early noon and  the hawkers have left the neighbourhood. But everyday she waits for that  lone cry of a particular hawker who sounds  like a boy whose small muffed sound  disturbs  her. It  is a tired sound  with an insistent shrill . One day she decided to  have a look on him. He was quite an adult of small built. It was quite hot and the dust laden road made it more intolerable, his broken cart  carried  the seasonal vegetables  which  were shrivelled up due to heat and dust.She looked at him and her brain raced to imagine a day in his life. He would perhaps be able to sell all his stuff  or carry some back to his home..? His home could be a one room tenement or some make shift arrangement putting up with some of his  ilk , as  she often observes them while on her evening walks. The big grand  houses in the area occupy the major parts of the colony leading further to the swanky  markets where one could see the gentry of all hues but none of the sort who ferry for them who wash their houses who toil in their kitchens who mop up  all their dirts and  turn them  into   spruced up zombies  who  become the show pieces  of the dazzling  Malls in the city.

 and may be the vegetable hawker is the husband of one of  those working  heaps who toil in their  houses  while he himself  remains  as ancient as the Hori of Godhan! 

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