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Joined: 10 Apr 2004
Posts: 6789
Dhananjaya  Reply with quote  

A young man stood looking through the door way, his head a little craned to the side, chin jutted out. His eyes were defiant, vindictive, crazed. He had stopped rather suddenly and looked in. I had been writing my accounts and looked up suddenly myself. The local tea-drinkers who were comfortably lounging on my steps looked up at both of us like Wimbledon viewers.

My gaze for no particular reason traveled down his side down his arm. The lower half tapered to a long loose dirty empty rubber glove.

“Edward ScScissorhands," I thought, unnecessarily. I held his gaze.

Had I parked my car over his urine puddle? Had I knocked over his cycle? What was his case? I looked back imperiously. He started a little and looking over to the other side of the door way he replied to a suggestion very clearly and very humorously. So there’s two of them. I thought. Crazy little bastards. Now they will come everyday for a month.

My door way tea loungers and I went back to work.

They came for the next week. One chose to stay away from my line of sight. The handless one did everything boys in high school do to get a girl’s attention, looking over at his friend for approval with secret smiles and gestures.

On the eighth day I called the security and questioned him discreetly. Lady must not enquire after young boys and all that. He said, Madam, The family lives behind our premises. He is the youngest of five brothers. They cut his hand off over family dispute.

I said, Ah!

The next week many times I parked quite close to him as he sat alone on the empty backside of a tricycle. He was talking away. He was oblivious to everything. He chattered away, young and good-looking, dirty and unkempt, his eyes focused near-by, waving at the population and market in general.

Yesterday the security came along with a bunch of receipts. I said, So where is this other boy who comes along with him.

What other boy?, he said. His friend got killed in the same encounter six months ago, no?

Your religion, you miserable man, begins in your stomach and ends in a lavatory - Nodar Dumbadze

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