Born In The Monsoon

I come into being, carved out from my mother. It must be very painful to have a piece of her removed like that. I now, exist in this world, hoping to bring joy to everyone who comes across my path with a gift I am filled with.

I was born in the month of August, in the southern part of Mumbai, India. It's the season of torrential rains, which is called the monsoon season. I wait, in hope to meet people. They come and go. They look at me with annoyance and set faces. It doesn't look as if they are pleased to see me. I am surprised. True; my gift has become a bit tarnished, but it's because of them.

Maybe they don't like tarnished gifts..but they never liked me when my gift was pure either. I felt depressed and unwanted. I tried to look at my brothers and sisters for comfort, but they too were in a similar situation. The older and bigger ones were even sadder.

As time passed I saw people kill my older siblings. Oh the horror....were we that bad?

I heard one of the people with gloves talking to another man in a huge roller.

"Let's end all these potholes once and for all. If we don't, someone might just break their neck in one of them. These monsoon rains always carve out the weaker parts of the roads giving birth to these terrible potholes filled with mucky water. This time a mixture of tar, plastic and cement might get the job done nicely."

And they filled me up and that was the end of me and my story.