Sunday, March 17, 2013

The Deserted Block

On sunny sunday morning in hostel
Absent was water and all unwell.
I cursed whole world as I woke from bed
With some livid, lorn faces made.

So as to complete the inevitable morning chores
A friend and I searched other blocks
For the traces if any we get
And landed at a block where search did abate.

The block was indeed water laden
And mere thought of bath made us insane.
Unfortunately but we had only one bucket
So I looked around another if I get.

To abutting room I went and knocked,
The door flung open as was unlocked.
The room was dark with only a candle lit
Where I saw a boy scribbling on a paper sheet.

I asked, 'May I borrow your bucket?';
'Yes sure', he said, 'but to return don't you forget.'
He looked not back whilst he talked,
Silently then closing the door out I walked.

I finished the bath while the friend kept on,
Waterless period was then long gone.
'Finish it off', I said, 'till I return the pail
'To the same boy who looked frail.'

'What pail, what boy?', he asked coming out
With his face evincing grave doubt.
'I got this pail', I replied, 'in the next room
'From the boy writing in the gloom.'

'My goodness! So what I hear is true', said friend,
'The story thus has no end.
'Many years ago the boy you saw was stabbed in lone
'By the reasons and culprits unknown.'

'The boy was seen a year later.
'So to desert the block they predicted better.
'Hitherto, I disbelieved them
'For the stories made were idle and lame.'

My body shuddered and numb went the mind,
Unknowingly I prayed God to be kind.
The friend then hastily did trail
As I hied out alongwith the pail.

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