The Ephemeral Sun

Walking past the dumped waste, Aaftaab came home. His torn and soiled beige shirt seemed as if the sun has eroded from the top layer of the fabric and his grey coloured cotton pant was laced with foul odour from the garbage dump he had to cross everyday on his way back from work – specifically rag-picking. Aaftaab lived with his mother Aabirah in one of the peripheral slums of Maharashtra. Alcohol overdose and a barely functional liver consumed Aabirah’s husband, leaving his family to penury. Aabirah, a 32-year-old woman used to pluck weeds from a pearl millet field in the area. Recently, she is also struggling to find work due to the spread of machines and poor health. Aaftaab, whose childhood has just seen eleven years on this planet, decided to help his mother earn some grains of rice so that the family of two is not reduced to one due to starvation.  

Aaftaab did not have to knock the door as the latch of the front door was already broken. He entered his house with a vegetable meal wrapped in a piece of news paper displaying advertisements of 3 BHK flats – flashy, colourful and luxurious buildings – a dream which was costly to even dream of. Aabirah was at home since last week and was busy fighting the viral fever. Aaftaab was a responsible kid and he knew he had to work hard to even buy basic amenities. Both of them sat on the floor and the moonlit night lit up their shabby house through the broken window pane. That was the first meal of the day for them – can we call it as breakfast? 

The outside was turning cold and breezy. Sun-deprived slum was having a hard time coping with the approaching winter nights. Both of them decided to fire some wood to form a warm shield around them. It was on 22nd December of that year and the day on which the sun (Aaftaab) was ephemeral (Aabirah).