A dungeon cell confined in the webs of spider. Packed sweets piled upon in layers spread over the front row of table. Bees could be seen humming through the transparent glass beneath the shelf, catching the aroma of sweet dishes kept in the glass shelf.
I laid an eye over the sweet shop round the corner while returning from my office. Walking through the straight road, it had become an act of deliberate ignorance to notice this hub of bees. An elderly woman in her mid-fifties could be seen, trying to wipe out the undesirable flock from her freshly made sweets. No passerby had ever shown a bit of interest in her products, still she pulled up the shutters at sharp 7th hour of clock in the morning. A child, laid in his racked clothes, clinging to the rotten walls of shop whose future seems confined to these four murky corners. Fan circulating the hot humid air across every direction showing no signs of respite under this scorching heat. Least bothered about the customers, mind bogged down shouldering the responsibilities of young minds and dreaming in leisure one day her child would get placed in Boston Consulting group (BCG). The road bore a deserted look as the sun was shedding under the thick clouds hovering over the west, walls stood numb hearing peacefully the echos played upon by the chirping of birds. In the meantime, she could hear the footsteps stepping over the cemented pathway the lucky ones were rushing to home after a long day at office. Miles to cover, hours to work before she could call it a day. As soon as the rays of sun ceased to reach her shop, coloured light filled up the entire room with light burning in yellow tinge gazing through the asymmetric steps of street.
Mapping my steps over the trodden pathway, I glanced over the shop with little interest. Sweets packets were still untouched, wrapped in red glitter paper with a hanging price tag Rs 60/Kg. The mystery of this global market was still unwary of the gullible world..
I laid an eye over the sweet shop round the corner while returning from my office. Walking through the straight road, it had become an act of deliberate ignorance to notice this hub of bees. An elderly woman in her mid-fifties could be seen, trying to wipe out the undesirable flock from her freshly made sweets. No passerby had ever shown a bit of interest in her products, still she pulled up the shutters at sharp 7th hour of clock in the morning. A child, laid in his racked clothes, clinging to the rotten walls of shop whose future seems confined to these four murky corners. Fan circulating the hot humid air across every direction showing no signs of respite under this scorching heat. Least bothered about the customers, mind bogged down shouldering the responsibilities of young minds and dreaming in leisure one day her child would get placed in Boston Consulting group (BCG). The road bore a deserted look as the sun was shedding under the thick clouds hovering over the west, walls stood numb hearing peacefully the echos played upon by the chirping of birds. In the meantime, she could hear the footsteps stepping over the cemented pathway the lucky ones were rushing to home after a long day at office. Miles to cover, hours to work before she could call it a day. As soon as the rays of sun ceased to reach her shop, coloured light filled up the entire room with light burning in yellow tinge gazing through the asymmetric steps of street.
Mapping my steps over the trodden pathway, I glanced over the shop with little interest. Sweets packets were still untouched, wrapped in red glitter paper with a hanging price tag Rs 60/Kg. The mystery of this global market was still unwary of the gullible world..
