Meinem Regal: Experience

Madras or Chennai, call it as you like, is the place that extracted writer from my dreams. Every time I say that I have achieved something, I fall and I dream. I dream not flowers or beautiful beaches of Chennai, but I nightmare my past. I see it as it is following me; I see it when I see a small boy on any store working for a living; I see it when I see aged people walking in pain and shame. I see it everywhere.

I was probably 8 or 9 years old, I wasn’t young, as my work demanded seriousness and understanding that comes with age. I was studying in 4^th standard. I still remember when a fine day I went to a store, located right in front of my first School David Matriculation

The next day I went to the same store with the hope that I will not be seeing any coconut sweet kept on his counter. But, I wasn’t lucky. I asked the shopkeeper whether he wanted more coconut sweet to sell or not. I tried to convince him at first, but after trying for the next 15 minutes, I started losing hope. But the boy within me was young and stubborn, he finally stopped convincing and said “Anna, keep this. Not sold by tomorrow, I will take back. You don’t need to pay now. Pay only for what is sold”. I left my 8 small plastic pouch containing roughly 5 coconut sweets each. These small pouches where stapled on a long paper strip.

I left the shop and went to another and did the same. By the time I reached home I was left with some 2 strips. I gave it to my mother who was making coconut sweets to be packed for the next slot. I remember how she used to cry when after cooking for many continuous hours her hands swelled to almost double its normal size. I may be exaggerating a bit, but excuse me for I remember things that my small and punished eyes saw.

Those few months helped me see the real face of world that is money driven and so…