Punishment

#DAILY_POST

I vividly remember my junior school days. When I say vividly remember, I mean only two things- picking up fights with whoever possible and getting thrashed by my principal. As a kid, I was always a stubborn ass, enough to put even a mule to shame. There was a rebel inside me who always tried to come out and beat others just to attain some peace. But I was never a bully; in fact I helped students who were bullied. I mentioned students as I did not have any friend. I was no hunk or hero and so got my ass kicked by my seniors or kids of my own age and then used to keep my mouth shut in front of the principal as my wounded body and ego would rather prefer to keep shut. Well how I became this, as expected I would put the blame on my upbringing. Poverty, starvation, dead mother and a drunkard father to live with; I had them all.

My principal had a special liking for me. He used to speak more with his cane than his mouth. And because I kept mum in front of him without screaming or crying like most of the other kids or trying to put the blame on others, his masculinity was in for some rude shock. At times he would get tired with his cane and yet I would not utter a single groan. There were times when he deliberately picked me up from my class to beat me even after knowing that I had no part in the fights in school that day. When he used to call me for some reason other than thrashing me, which used to happen once in a few blue moons, I used to get ready to be beaten by opening my school uniform. As I came home, I used to drown myself in my pillow and cry with those mute screams. My father had no idea if I ate or not and thus my pains or swollen elbow or black and blue body always fell to his blind, booze covered eyes.

Much to all my teachers’ amazement, I was somewhat good in studies. In fact, I used to come within the top 10 students in all the subjects regularly. But I never got the love or praise from my teachers as the principal had a grudge against me. Nobody of them wanted to be in the bad book of the principal. I did not care much for their love though, I had no idea what love is and what it can do to people. Things were going pretty much the same.

Then as seasons change and things get worse, well that was what I used to think earlier, my principal also changed. My old principal was courteous enough to pass on the baton to my new principal along with inputs about my behavior. The very next day I picked up a fight; but it was not my fault actually. I somehow managed to make a friend and his food was forcefully taken away by the seniors and hence I came to my normal self. I was summoned by the principal in his room and I was ready to open my uniform. But for a change, he called me and wanted to know the whole story. I kept tight-lipped initially but then he smiled at me and asked me again. What happened that day I still have not been able to comprehend but I started to speak and told him the true story backed up by my friend. I was not touched with the cane but the caring hands of a father. He advised to pick up a fight again only if it’s meant for truth and justice. He mentioned that his doors would always remain open for me and to never let him down. I realized for the first time what love is and what its power is.

That one punishment changed my whole life.

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If you want to read some more amazing works on the same topic, you will find them here: Punishment.

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Fight for Survival

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Even before you grow in your mother’s womb,

It has already begun for you.

It’s defines what you’ll become in future,

Your survival instincts depend on it too.

 

Sometimes it’s against social anarchy and ignorance,

Sometimes it’s the expectations of the family.

Sometimes it’s against your own dreams and ambitions,

You are left bruised and hopeless, suffering lonely.

 

Even a small mistake will cost you dear,

The pressure is intense, the burden relentless;

No time to mull over your loss or failure,

The feeling is surreal when you taste success.

 

The end of one makes way for another,

Monotonous and strenuous like an old river.

It becomes the part of your daily life,

The struggle for existence goes on forever.

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And here is the link to other such beautiful writing on this daily word:
Struggle

Epitome

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I was new to the city, the locality where I stayed was something I was not familiar. They told me that people in the city are different from the ones in the village but I did not believe them until I came to live here. The broker who got me the house on rent did warn me that the locality was not conducive to healthy living. But the rent was less and that was the least I could do to save money. I had come to the city to find a job. Luckily for me there was an interview call just the next day.

I was having tea from the nearby stall. As I did not know the place of interview properly, I got ready with ample time in hand. The tea-stall owner told me that it was just an hour away from my place and I had more than two hours. The tea-stall had a small boy working, a small kid actually, vibrant and active with a cute and innocent smile pasted on his face. Then I saw the whole thing happening, well almost.

Just on the opposite foot of the stall sat an old widow beggar. Well she was sitting there yesterday and begged from me to which I politely refused but today I saw her lying on the ground. She seemed unconscious.  At first, I thought about helping her but then I remembered about my opportunity for a fresh a new beginning and chose to ignore her. The other people in the tea-stall found it amusing to discuss about her condition rather than helping her but this grabbed the attention of that kid. He ran with some water and sprinkled on her face. She was barely able to open her eyes. He made her drink some but her condition did not improve a bit. He came running back to his owner and begged for some money from him. He said that the amount would be deducted from his monthly wages to which he paid no heed. He went to the house of the nearby doctor and almost dragged him to her. He called some people to lift her and take her to his home for treatment while the kid again ran to bring something. The owner reminded me about my interview and I had to leave that place soon. Last time I saw him carry a packet, I thought he was probably carrying food and medicines for her.

I came back home late that night and had completely forgotten about the incidents of the morning. The grueling interview sessions went on for prolonged duration and multiple times. Without proper food and rest, I just came back home and blacked out.

The next morning I remembered the whole incident and looked out of the window. I was shocked, scared and angry on me; I should have at least done something for her. The lady was not there, I though the inevitable had happened. I came down and had one last look at the place where I saw her smiling at me just two days back and now she was gone. I turned around to go the tea-stall to inquire about her demise and then I saw her enjoying the tea with some slices of bread. The kid was still working there without any idea of what he had done, still smiling naively.

I had seen the epitome of a true human that day.

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You’ll find some other amazing works on the same daily prompt word at Epitome

Dream

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I dream about a new universe,

One which is devoid of any curse.

Where there is only love and purity,

Where there is no hatred or enmity.

 

I hope to see a new universe,

Where people from races diverse.

Can share the same roof happily,

People care about each other sincerely.

 

I wish to be a part of a universe,

Corruption is nothing more than farce.

Honesty and wisdom forms its base,

And is sugar-coated with truthfulness.

 

I have a vision about a new universe,

Harmony prevails over situations adverse.

The sky there is not red or black but blue,

I hope my dream does come true.

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Here is the link of other posts with the daily prompt word ‘DREAM’:
Dream

I Love to Sing

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I love to sing when I am sad,

It takes care of all the pain.

I love to sing when I am happy,

And dance to the tune of the rain.

I love to sing when I am scared,

It gives me back my courage.

I love to sing on my birthdays,

And embrace my increasing age.

I love to sing when under pressure,

It helps me bear the colossal burden.

I love to sing when weak and tired,

And I become lively and freshen.

I love to sing when I fail miserably,

It prepares me to try one more time.

I love to sing when I succeed in life,

It makes the joy sweeter every dime.

I love to sing when I am in love,

It makes those moments so magical.

I lose track of everything around,

And life seems to feel so unreal.

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And here’s the link to the other amazing writings with the same prompt:
Sing

Brick

#DAILY_PROMPT

The old house, the heartening memories;

The shies of relief, the unfulfilled stories.

Generations came and generations went,

Inhabitants decreased with time’s ascent.

The pomp and grandeur on a steady wane,

The legacy broke down in excruciating pain.

Corporate wants to crush it as fallen leaves,

It’s now the heaven of addicts and thieves.

Rain or fire, flood or famine, thunder or storm;

No matter the troubles come in what form.

The bricks have bore the burden of everything,

And helped the building to still keep breathing.

 

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And here’s the link to the other amazing works for this daily prompt “Brick”:
Brick

Healthy

#DAILY PROMPT

He was shocked, he was scared and he almost became numb. He was not sure what to do rather where to hide. He was feeling weak and felt intense nausea. He was not sure how to escape from this hustle and bustle. Well that’s what happens when someone from the village comes to the big city of Kolkata. Afzal had brought his son Karim to the city for treatment. He was suffering from some disease of the stomach which the doctors in the village were unable to find out and thus the visit to the city. He was getting thinner day by day, just like a malnourished kid.

He clutched his father’s shirt with all his might and clung to him like a wrapping paper covering a gift. He was a kid of five and had never crossed the limits of his village, forget coming to a metropolitan city. The environment at the Howrah Railway Station can be quite daunting for any people and for a first timer who was also a kid from a village in the distant corner of West Bengal, it was really frightening. The wave of people, the screaming of the vendors, the running of the coolies, the cry of the beggars; well one can’t have a more diverse, crowded and noisy atmosphere.

His father worked in the city and knew the exact location of the NRS Government Hospital where they were heading to. Her mother had packed lunch for both of them but Afzal knew that the money he had with him, they might need to extend the food till dinner. The doctor was in great demand and it was always difficult to get the appointment on the same day. Many people from his village had mentioned that they had to extend their stay in the city for 2-3 days to get treated by this doctor.

As they came out of the platforms to board the bus, Karim felt extremely hungry. They left home very early in the morning having a meager amount of food and it was almost afternoon. His ill body found it difficult to move even a bit. So Afzal found a shady area just outside the platform and sat on the street so that his son could have some food. From his torn bag, he took out a handmade chapati and some pickle. Karim was both happy and sad; happy because he was finally getting to eat something and sad because he knew that his father wouldn’t be eating anything. As he started feeding his son, a small beggar kid just stood behind him and stared blankly at the food. The pain of starvation was coming out of his eyes in the form of tears and his hands showed no sign of any money at all.

At first Karim thought to ignore him. He knew that the small and single piece of chapati won’t be enough to feed him and he also thought to share it with his father. But he could not. He called the kid towards him. He was a bit apprehensive initially but the warmth of Karim’s invitation and the innocence of his smile made him run towards him. Karim took the food from his father’s hand and he fed him with his own hands. Drops of tears came down the kid’s face as he enjoyed the company and the food. Those tear drops had love, gratitude and humanity written all over it. He hugged Karim as if he was someone his own and prayed to God so that he got well soon.

Karim only had a bit of pickle and some water. He pulled his father up and started walking towards the bus terminus.

He felt healthy.

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Here’s the link to other posts for the Daily Prompt word ‘Healthy’:

Healthy