The Creative Cafe
Published in

The Creative Cafe

Sunset to a life

a story

Photo by Chris Lawton on Unsplash

He was looking at the setting sun. The red sun was surrounded by a few clouds which were colored in countless colors. The orange light also fell on his face which was old and creased. His eyes were blue and deep, and his hair was rough and shaggy.

His name was Manohar and he was a laborer in Delhi. He had been a laborer for 40 years now. He started this work when he was just 8 years old. Owing to his work and lack of proper nutrition, he looked much older than his years. All day he would lift sacks of cement on his back or hit the hammer to break stones. He received a petty income that would just fetch him two meals a day. And what was the meal — two dry chapatis with some onion or chilly. It was days since he had had vegetables or pulses in his meal.

Today had been a tiring day. The work was usual, but he was more fatigued than other days. They were working on the top floor of a tall building. While working, he started feeling the fatigue in his limbs. He left his working instruments and sat on the boundary of the building. The sun was setting, and he was now staring at it.

He had left hoping for the better a long time ago. There was this life in front of him, that would go in its usual way. It was a life of suffering if someone drawn towards opinions would look at it. But Manohar had left making opinions far back. He was illiterate and his lack of the ability to read and write further helped him to naturally accept his life as it was. He was grateful for the little food that he ate. There was wisdom in his manners. Although his body was malnutritioned, there was depth in his eyes, in his blue sapphire like eyes.

The setting sun reflected in his eyes and they shone beautifully, almost like yellow-orange stars. He lifted his wrinkled hands and looked at the touch of sunlight on them. He felt the warm, comforting touch of sunlight on his body. He had now stared at the sunlight for long. His beautiful eyes were brimming with tears now. In a moment, he had experienced the tender touch of poetry in his life.

He had always worked hard. He did all that he could to survive. And never had he turned bitter. He helped whoever he could. Once, he had saved a lamb from a butcher. He did not like anyone harming the animals or birds. When he had saved the lamb, he looked into its eyes. Those innocent eyes won his heart. Whenever he was feeling low, he closed his eyes and looked at those eyes in his mind. He knew then that if so much beauty is possible in this world, there was no reason to be feeling low.

Now, the sun looked as beautiful as that lamb’s eyes to him. He closed his eyes then and was lost to the world. Someone from behind called ‘Manohar!’, no one responded. The caller gathered more people all in a frenzy repeating ‘Manohar! Manohar!’. Manohar didn’t hear his name being called. All he heard was the tinkling of some bells, some bells in the necks of some sheep and a shepherd calling each one to their homes…

© Manan sheel

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manan sheel

manan sheel

an artist, poet, singer and engineer. trying to introduce heart into the world of mind.

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