SACHIN

(Image credits: pinterest. com) 

In the silent midnight hour, when the chaos and noise almost mutes and the fluorescent lights are visible across the streets. When the city slumbers in their comfy bed chambers and the heavy velvets are drawn across for privacy. 

There still lies a world, in the corners of the town, awake, living in the shadows, hiding behind the veils of a gossamer gray. 

(Image credits: borgenmagazine. com) 

 Their faces pale appearing anemic, lean frames with little eyes peering out from their hiding place. They were the unfortunate few, born to wrestle for survival. 

(Image credits: tribune. com. pk) 

Born under the heavy burdens laden of poverty. 

Their lives a constant struggle... Suffering the maladies of a broken and lost humanity. 

(Image credits: Google Images) 

Bewildered with grief and despair yet undeterred they were cold from weather not cold of hearts. 

Shabbily dressed, unkempt hairs, tears stained cheeks, feeble, dull yet they were bathed with the luster of unique dreams. 

If one would ever draw nearer to these, they could glimpse into an another world beyond. 

A world enveloped of darkness. The darkness of nothing,  often criticized and judged. The darkness hiding behind the shadows. Yet, The darkness heralding the approach of a new dawn. 

The world where they never fail to appreciate the dim ray of hope, the hope of grasping life .

 Their grateful hearts never craving for the ugly greed. Their lips never betraying the truth. 

Their souls humble to serve but often exploited as slaves. They embrace the dark as from the dark of nothing once human life began. 

The nothing holding everything in its grasp yet never loosening its reins to the shallow, foolish hearts of men to claim it or boast. 

It is the darkness of fate yet the dark of transcendence. Their empty hands possess the keys unlocking the doors of a world unknown. 

The Dark is often a world of unspoken truths .

The Truth often being, so bitter and ugly. 

******

Its 2p.m 

There are those that lie awake in the  silent dark hours, like me, scribbling their blabbering minds in ink on pages. 

Symptoms of Insomnia. The pleasure of the poets and writers. 

I then decided to stroll outside.

I walked through the dingy, dark streets, saw the rats squeak and nibble the bits of food from the trash in the corner. 

I was surprised to still hear the voices of some children nearby at such a dreaded time. 

Their voices intrigued me to walk the distance towards them. I stood there still in shock and surprise. 

What would kids in a country like ours do? Play the game one worships as religion.

 I saw their faces beaming under the fluorescent street lights. 

Who said night is meant only to sleep? I smiled broadly and watched from a distance as they played. 

Who would mind an amusing audience? 

And then I heard a loud voice, which made me grieve, I looked at their sunken low faces, I looked up inquired the clouds, they were thick and dark, and again the thunders roared echoing an alarm for a war in the heavens. Revolting clouds clattered pouring down sheets of heavy rain. Lightning and thunders clashed over supremacy. 

I sit  beside my desk and my burgandy diary holding my coffee mug in hand, a faint smile appeared on my face as I reflected the last event, just few minutes ago, with the little boy. 

"What is your name? "- I questioned as he stretched his hands and asked me for his cricket ball, I had picked from the ground. 

"Give me first my cricket ball" he seemed impatient so I gave him the ball. 

"Sachin" he shouted as he ran drenching in the rain back to his hiding den. 

Back into his world in the corners of the town, hidden somewhere behind the shadows, where he'll peer out his little eyes from the gossamer gray curtain. And will look with his glittering, dreamy eyes, to a world on the other side. To a world which gives him a bleak hope burning in the darkness of his reality. 

And also the world where he found his dream. 

A dream though appealing like fetching the stars, but his dream, his own one, that gave him a reason to smile and live. 

(Image credits: editplatter. com) 

Sachin the dream of million unknown faces in the dark. 

"Sachin" I muttered and switched off the light. 

*****************************************

 ©Sybil Samuel