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Good Things Over Shyness
Good Things Over Shyness

© Amit Nunia

Abstract Children Drama

4 Minutes   2.6K    468

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I got up at 8 o’clock in the morning. It was not early, but in winters children sleep till 9 o’clock. I was a seven-year old boy. I was rubbed my eyes and looked around. I did not see anything clearly, but in the study lamp’s light I could see my elder brother studying. It was a very foggy day.

I could hear sounds of utensils being used and running water from tap. My mother was in the kitchen, preparing breakfast and lunch. I was not ready to come out of my blanket, but the thought of missing the school bus horrified me. I quickly jumped out of bed and shivered. I wrapped my hands around my chest and wore my cold slippers. 

After hot bath, wearing the cold school uniform gave me shivers and my body was covered in goose pimples. Not having breakfast was my habit because I was too lazy to wake up early so it was hard to make time for breakfast. I was trying to fit into shoes and my brother was having breakfast on his study table. 

My mom came into the room with a hot glass of milk and without saying a word to me, handed over the glass and started to tighten my shoe laces. I was in hurry so I did not wait for the milk to get cold and I started having hot milk.

“No sugar in it,” I made a teary face.

“Have it without sugar,” she scolded.

Without saying another word, I emptied the glass. She helped me to pack my bag.

“Pencil?” she asked. “Already in my bag,” I replied.

My elder brother and I waved goodbye.

“Be quick,” my mother said.

I started running while my brother insisted that I slow down. Bus stand was fifteen minutes away from my house. We crossed fields of crops. Fog made spider webs clearly visible. Falling drops from end of leaves tried to hold on to the end of leaves but rolled down like pearls. We did not see a single person on the way, but there were a few people at the bus stand - some cleaners with sweepers. I saw a boy shivering while holding an ugly, old bag over his shoulders. It was not a school bag. He was collecting plastic bags in that old bag. I was wearing a coat over shirt and inner wear, but he was just wearing shorts and a shirt.

My brother was looking in the direction of the school bus, but my eyes were glued to that boy. His condition was miserable, pale skin and red eyes. 

I put down my bag on a stone and started to look in. “Did you forget your notebook?” my brother asked angrily.

“No, I am looking in my lunch box,” I replied and opened my lunch box. There were two aloo paranths rolled in silver foil. 

“What do you want with your lunch box, now? Are you hungry?” my brother chuckled. 

“Nothing,” I closed my bag back again. My shyness did not let my pity win. I was thinking of giving some food to that miserable boy, but I was hesitant to call him in public.

It was the usual time for our bus, but today the bus did not arrived. The boy was busy collecting old, rusty plastic bags out of dusty, ugly dump. He came near us. There was a plastic bag filled with used medicine bottles. He emptied out the bottles and put that in another bigger bag.

“Do you study?” I asked hesitating and in very low voice. He heard me but ignored and continued his work.

“Do you want to eat something?” I asked him in a louder voice. He said nothing, just looked at me like he was eagerly waiting for this moment.

I put my bag again on same stone and quickly took out my lunch box. My brother’s eyes popped out with anger, but he did not speak.

I took out a parantha and packed back my bag. I stepped forward. He was looking at me with disbelief.

“Take it,” I said. He took that parantha in his hand and felt good at the warmth that spread in his palm. He slowly opened the foil and started eating it. A big smile brightened his lips. He enjoyed the meal in silence.

“My younger brother,” the boy said in a very low and almost inaudible voice. 

“What?” I asked him.

I did not hear him, but my brother did and he gave him the parantha from his lunch box. As soon the boy felt the warmth in his palm, he ran to his younger brother.

I was content and felt joy at doing some good work over my shyness and I saw my brother smiling. “Why are you smiling?” I asked my brother and he said, “Nothing.”                                                                                                                                 

short story shy love pity

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