Friday 21 November 2014

This Day


This day was like any other day.

“I have to reach office by eight; I will use the bathroom first.”
“I will just take ten minutes. I don’t want to miss the train, not today.”
“No, it’s never ten minutes with you; I know you well, you can’t fool me now.”
“Why don’t you understand, I have been missing the first train every day of the week,” he had almost shrieked.
“It is not my problem.”

He shrank within himself for he knew that both parents would keep arguing till one of them left for office.

This day was like any other day.

Every morning he would get up and wish that it would be a different day. Sometimes it did start differently. The rays streaming in the room would appear warm and bright. A butterfly would come and flutter near the window. Squirrels would jump and play on the walls and even on his wheelchair.  Air would smell beautiful.

But, more often than not, it never ended that way.  Something or other would happen and they would be at each other, like two sworn and tired enemies; unaware that he was observing them; that he was acutely sensitive and could feel even the slightest vibe floating in the air; that every moment of life he was shrinking within himself. 
*****
A post for Two Shoes Tuesday
Word prompt- Observe

22 comments:

  1. It is up to us what we make of our days...

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  2. Welcome to the link up.

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  3. Welcome to Two Shoes Tuesday! I am happy to see you joining in with such a great piece! Your story is the reality for children far too often. I remember my own parents fighting at night and us kids lingering on the stairs, frightened, crying, and wishing it would stop. I doubt they ever knew we were there, but those memories definitely impacted our sense of security and wellbeing, just as you wrote about here. I am sad for every child for whom this is true, and for every adult that remembers being this child!

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    1. great you liked it, and thanks for reading.

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  4. Well wild animals kick their offspring out of the nest, so this perhaps is a throwback to those times. Your hero in the story perhaps is growing up and can see the possibilities of a different life away from the nest!

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    1. eventually every child will grow up, but one carries the scars for many years, sometimes till death, thanks for reading the post

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  5. It is totally depend to us what we make of our days. Nice post

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  6. perhaps? Thanks Yogi for reading it

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  7. So sad. Many times our day depends on others, if only they understood that! Very well penned. Arora. Your stories are one of a kind! :)

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  8. It's too bad kids have to grow with those kind of memories. I remember mine even getting physical. I liked going to work on the train, you might live where that is possible. My kids are missing that coming here back to Houston. They still can walk the little one to her school, though, like they did in London.
    ..

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    1. thanks Jim for taking out time to read and comment, nice you saw the point i was trying to make

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  9. O'my God! Parents will never understand how their own child(ren) is suffering from their intense arguements. Some children suffer, few become oblivious, and rare take it as an opportunity like me, who always left them alone to hit and hurt, while i would play cricket in school uniform with a readymade excuse, 'you were fighting mom and i couldn't find my socks or tie, shoes or trousers.'
    I learned from 'em, if parents fight child spoils. Now, we (wife n me) don't argue before Grazie, but sometime she asks, 'what happened to our kitchen dad? All the utensils are scattered in drawing room. And how did your phone damage this time?
    Eh Grazie, wish you never grow up sweetheart.
    Btw, nice story Arora ji, just loved it as what u wrote is happened in every second home. ENJOY.
    ;) ...shabab

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    1. sometimes parents are too busy with tier issues to even think what signals they are sending out,thanks Shabab for reading and for your thoughtful comments

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  10. Unfortunately, this is a way of life for some. A very important, well written piece.

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  11. thanks Ann for comments, nice you could read my post

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  12. That is so sad. I don't understand why adults don't think once what impressions they are leaving for their kids.
    Very well written.

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    1. situation is all the more sad for those kids who are unusually sensitive. thanks Indrani for the comments

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  13. Very nice piece dad...very nice..

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