January 22, 2019
"Write from the perspective of someone with no money to buy food."
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The aroma of the jilebis wafted around him and he almost gagged on the sweet cloying scent. It did not help turning his face away, for then the savoury spiciness of the samosas hit him. He curled in further, tightening his hands round growling stomach, 'how long was is since he had last eaten? Two days, three..' He did not have an idea and now he could not even care. In the beginning drinking water had filled him up, kept some of the pangs at bay but as the hours passed and turned to days, his little body refused the water. His parched throat and bilious stomach could not take the water, it was painful and he would only sip a few drops. Now weakened he could not even make the journey to the street tap, a few meters away.
His mouth salivated as the scents continued to assail him, bring both a desperate need to satisfy the hunger pangs as well as memories of days that would never return. Memories of a home, a mother who made cooked for him, simple rice and dal, a curry on the lucky days, but always enough to fill him. Today those memories were as painful as the scents around him, teasing, tantalising, promising him a dream which was never going to come true. He could never have that home again and maybe never have another meal either.
As the darkness gathered and the silence filled the street, he slipped into an exhausted slumber, the hunger having numbed his body and stilled his heart. Morning found him unmoving, with a smile on his tender face, he appeared to have gone home.
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Word count 280
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365 Days - Book II
RandomThis is my collection of writings for the three hundred and sixty five day writing challenge - where one has to write something daily, every day, for one whole year, based on the prompts provided - as part of an exercise to improve creative writing...
