PHOENIX - The Rebirth Of Hope

Chapter 1 : The Dump Yard

The fences were smeared with gobbles of rotting paint. The hardwood was petrifying, releasing a fetid smell that makes one choke. The walls were begrimed with splotches of vegetable scraps and banana peels. There was a thick smell of rancid butter in the air along with the fresh smell of urine and unwashed animal bodies mostly cows, dogs, cats, and buffaloes. The white cows almost looked black with the underside of their bellies splattered with dust and grime and splotches of their poop. Vultures reined in the sky in numbers occasionally diving to catch a random rat that their hungry eyes were keen enough to spot. The dogs, crouching in the corner were inexplicably thin. They tore through polythene bags in hopes of finding something edible to eat, anything. Quality and quantity didn't matter.

There were big heaps of garbage everywhere with rickles of bones of small animals. Some of the garbage was knocked loose from the pile. Ugh, the smell was intolerable. Flies flew around and kept on pestering the thin, scrawny boys who were shuffling through the piles. Their clothes were tattered and torn, dirtied with grime, soot, and sewage sludge, giving a peep at their unwashed and unhygienic bodies. The boys looked sickened and their stomachs looked as if they were touching their spines. Some children were so small that there was no saying what gender they were and their lack of hair didn't help either. They were all starving, but all that the passers-by did was cringe away from them as far as they could.

The flies came again. They did not stop even when the boys waved them around roughly with their hands. In the corner, near the wall, a boy cursed, ''Insufferable, these flies.'' The boy quickly moved forward, rummaging through the piles, trying to get his hand on anything useful. He lifted his head. In the distance, he saw something catch the sun's eye and gleam like a needle in a haystack. A coin. In a hurry, he stepped on cow's poop, scuffing all the way to get the goddamn filth off, he reached the coin and took it in his hand. He brought it to eye level. A coin! A real ten-rupee coin!! He quickly roved his head back to see if anyone had seen that he had found something but all the boys were busy rummaging their own piles.

Thanking his luck, the boy separated himself from the piles and shuffled his feet out of the dump yard. They seriously hurt, his feet. They were quite sore with bruises everywhere. Not so fashionable as the rich people on the same road. But now who gave any attention to the appearance in the world of low class. The untouchables, the boy remembered. That was what people like him were called.

A blazing horn bought him out of his thoughts. He looked to see a car coming his way. He quickly cleared off the road with panted breaths and started down the walkway. It was near evening. The sun was splashing the horizon with a radiant orange, yellow, and burgundy hue. Mother would be expecting him by now and father must have finished the fieldwork..... Or maybe he was sleeping in bed.

The boy entered a narrow lane and started down the aisle. He stopped near a hand pump as he reached the slum. Fetching a bucket from the pile of abandoned ones, he put it under the rusted machine and began pumping water. His arms were thin like straws. It was a tedious job. Beats of sweat dripped down his forehead. Finally, the job was done. He stopped pumping and grabbed the bucket with both his hands. He straightened up and started his way towered his shelter. The bucket jostled in his hand, splashing water along his way. He kept out of the way of the women who were washing clothes in the rivers and jolly children running to and fro.

They are completely oblivious to the situation around them, of how poor they are. He thought as he looked at the children. Some day they will have to work on their farms. Suffer to provide for their families. He averted his eyes. He sighed. He was aware of how poor his family was. Half the time they had to suffer to make ends meet. Roti and salt were the common food items.

The boy reached the small rectangular hut that was his house. Made of straws, sugarcane stems, and dried leaves, it just had enough space to keep all his family away from the way cruel eyes of the cold at night.

He put the bucket down beside the door. Half the water had been squandered away just because of the constant splashing. He cursed. He opened the door which made a creak-creak sound and slammed it short after him. There was the smell of boiling rice coming from the kitchen and a bunch of smoke. Just in front of the door a quarter of an inch away was the bed where his father slept. It was currently empty. It was made of nothing much. Just a pile of grass and hay for the bed and other tufts of grass were knotted together meticulously in a bunch to compromise as a fluffy pillow.

He went to his room passing his brother's who must be watching the sunset. He always did that .As the boy thought of his brother sadness crept into his eyes. Emotions strangled his heart. He immediately shook his head to clear it all away. If he started crying now he would never be able to stop. He went to his room and put the coin in the basket with the others. Sighing, he sat down on his bed.

That's when he called out, "Mom, I am home".

"Samarth", The voice came back from the kitchen. "Come in the kitchen for a moment".

The boy or rather Samarth got up and went into the kitchen. Samarth was aware of the fact that his mother had a fairly good voice. Gentle, melodic, and most of all soothing. She sang songs and bhajans with the other ladies. That was also one way in which they earned money. Enough to buy some rotis and rice for dinner.

"Samarth", His mother said when he reached the kitchen. She was wearing a cyan-colored saree with small fish patterns on it. Her hair was braided and her complexion looked darker than usual. She was thin with big dark brown eyes and a long nose. She was not beautiful but in Samarth's eyes, she was the most beautiful woman just as always a mother is to her child. Putting a hand on his shoulder, she smiled at him but he could see the permanent shadow of sadness lingering in her eyes even if she tried to hide it. Her smiles were somehow always sad and half-hearted. With an effort, he smiled back.

"Find anything today?", She asked.

"Yeah, a ten-rupee coin." He said and averted his eyes.

"Good", She nodded.

"Take your lunch to your room. I am going in to feed your brother."

Samarth nodded. This was how it always was. Breakfast in the morning. Then because he and his father returned from their daily chores in the evening, so lunch in the evening and finally a light meal at night.

Samarth did as he was told and took his lunch to his room. He ate quickly while he thought about random things. One topic triumphed over others. Tomorrow was school and he hadn't completed his homework. He was becoming like Nobita in Doraemon. Everyone here knew about Nobita and his side-sick or partner(whatever) Doraemon. There was only one TV in the whole slum and most of the time children would gather there. It was Samarth's maternal Nana Ji's. Maternal Grandfather his native tongue was called Nana Ji. In all his family Samarth liked his Nana Ji the best. He was the most encouraging and kind-hearted person he knew. Most of all, Nana Ji believed in Samarth. Nani Ji's death had taken a toll on Nana Ji but well.....like you know time is the greatest healer of all.

Samarth finished his lunch. He put his dirty utensils in the kitchen and crept back into his room. He lied down on his bed and daydreamed about his castles in the air, something that would never be possible for him in real life. A sharp point of straw kneaded his spine but he didn't give it a thought.

After some time, he flung himself off his bed and took out his school books. Delaying wouldn't make them go away. School work was waiting. He angrily opened his notebook and took out a ball-point pen. Day-dreaming felt good when he was in the middle of it. But just as the realisations came creeping back that he was once again just wasting his time and thinking about things he could never do and have, it would make him especially bitter.

You just have to work in your father's field and make money for your family. The outside world doesn't want you for you do not belong there. Get that in that thick brain of yours, you idiot. He thought and started scribbling in his notebook without further ado.

Those were the thoughts that accompanied him as he went to sleep. But some tiny part of him refused to listen, hoping against hope.

What if it was possible?