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The Morning

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  Ahalya- the thought of her bought a smile and the crow’s feet widened prominently beside his eyes. The smell of tea always gave her aura; her long black hair, kohl eyes, dimples, light coffee coloured skin. Memories!! many of which he recollected in fragments, but it remained forever. A cycle bell startled him ,it was Damu. “Good morning Rametta!” Damu greeted Raman addressing him as an elder brother. “Good morning Damu! You are early today.” Damu smiled back and began his chores. He was a boy of 16,hailing from an “untouchable” family. He was least welcome elsewhere ,but here. This was his part-time job to support his college fee. Picking up the broom to dust the veranda, a mop to clean the floor inside and a old piece of lungi to dust the shelves, he began. With rigorously clashing cycle chains ,six teenage boys came on their cycles and picked up a pile of newspaper each and left. They too fit into Raman’s small world. Pleased by their timing, he began reading his newspaper. “Y...

The Dawn

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  The freshness of the Sun, fog, mist and dew made up the morning for every person, except for Mr. Raman. He took his bicycle to begin his restless day before half the world opened their eyes. His bookstall was just 6 mins away. A rusty shutter with a thundering sound gave way to this 49 year old man’s worldly treasures. He lived in its attic once and decided to move to a better home eventually; as the older books started to pile up, it smelt of dust and with intractable moth infestation it was no longer habitable. Looking around he took in 4 bundles dropped at the veranda., untied each of it and segregated the morning dailies into 6 different sets to be distributed around the village. A morning chore that he has been doing for the past 15 years. He went over to his makeshift kitchen to make tea for himself and Damodar the helper boy, who would be in by half past 6. As the tea warmed his throat and the essence of ginger relaxed his nerves he thought about her. Ahalya. (to be contin...