POISONED OR POISED

He saw him coming down the stairs. A perfectly suited gentleman with his head high in pride. A millionaire with legs on ground and eyes always facing the sky . The man with dignity. The man with an appealing personality but not appealing enough for his son to not kill him. He spilled oil near the stairs. This time he wished that his dad will slip and eventually fall down the stairs but the God had its own plans. His dad missed it and came down. “Good Morning dad”, he said with a fake smile. Both of them had a different meaning for the same sentence. It was tea time, the best time to play his game. He poisoned the tea and his dad drank it. The white foam from his dad’s mouth was the will he desperately wanted in his name. His dad was dead.

But this time Mr. Ram was proud of his son. He was living the dreams of his father. The street play has its own beauty and the light of the street play was glittering in his father’s eyes.