A boy with silver eyes

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: June 11, 2017

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Submitted: June 11, 2017

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It was a lazy Sunday morning, having a cup of coffee in my balcony (normally I does for escaping from Saturday night boozy hangover). Suddenly my phone rang. From ringtone I can understand that it was my project leads call. I hate office calls on Sundays. I took the phone.  Ok let me introduce I’m working as a hired Health and safety professional, who does training for Multinational civil companies.

 

Yes! My project lead asked me to do training urgently for some civil construction workers, as they have to start work by Monday. With half mind I had my bath and packed my bags for the site. I entered the training room. It’s filled with construction peoples. About 100 persons came for training. I started my training. After having introduction and some jokes I started training. In the midst of the training I strike a boy with silver eyes. Ghosh: seeing that boy I confirmed that he is not over 18. I can send him out of the training room, if I saw any suspected under aged people. But his eyes were speaking to me, I kept quiet.  I can see sorrow on his face, fire on his eyes. Yes I confirmed, I need to speak with this guy .My training went over and I keenly watched the boy. He went with his “tikkedhar” (supervisor). Yes, I need to speak with him, but not surrounded by a group of team.

 

Next day, I have gone to site to see that boy. I have seen with his supervisor a fat bearded 50 year old guy. I thought this is not the right time to speak. I waited in site till the boy was alone. Suddenly about 4pm, I saw his tikedhar starting his bike, yes the time had come. I went near the boy and offered a coffee. He hesitated to come first, but after saying a lot he came with me. We went a little far away coffee shop and our conversation starts:

 

He told his name was Ahmed Khan and he was from UP. He was just 15 year old. I cracked him some jokes and film stories to gain his confidence for telling the story. I assure him nothing will happen to him. He started narrating his past in low voice. He was the single son of his family. His father was a cycle mechanic and mother was a house-wife. They loved him very much. He was an average student in studies also. At his age of 12, his mom and dad died in an accident in there village and he became alone. Soon his uncle take over him and took him to his home. He was a drunkard and his wife died in her earlier age and having no children. On the first day at his home, he asked to sleep with him and he had saw some strange characters on his uncle. On deep sleep, his uncle started to kiss him on his private parts. He restricted. But he can’t restrict that for a long period of time. An innocent child at the hands of a cruel uncle. Being violently abused over and over again. And that sexual abuse continued throughout for two years. The two years went by, filled with numbness and unbearable pain. Filled with emotions he had never known existed. Filled with an emptiness that was so hollow, he was a walking dead person. The endless amount of sleepless nights became a ritual in his twisted schedule. The daily confusion and absolute loss that consumed him was indescribable.
 

He lost his studies and during the age of 14, his uncle become debt and he sold that boy for that tikedhar. His job was supplying labors to construction sites. First few days he cared him a lot. But after some day’s boy started suspecting his character. He sold him to groups of men who were having bachelor parties.  He sold him to gangs, he sold him to pimps.  Now he has taken him to Bengaluru in construction site. While narrating this story, I become numb. Suddenly I called one of my friend in child right commission .He promised me to help me next day. I said to him: everything will be alright from tomorrow, as child commission will take you to orphanage. Suddenly I saw a grin in her face. I dropped him back to construction site. That day I didn’t slept. I just wanted sun to rise. Next day morning, I had gone with a bunch of peoples from labor department. But I couldn’t find out that boy. I searched on the look and corners of the site. I enquired everyone at site about that boy. But he and his tikedhar is missing…………….

 

 

 

 Story to be continued in my next story: “A game on a bandh day in Bengaluru”


© Copyright 2017 Aravind V Nair. All rights reserved.

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