An Acccident

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic

today rarely the cases appear of recognising the case continue the pace

The drunken in four wheeler dually in joy hearing the stereo sound coming through the calm road. Taking the center symbol of the driving unexpectedly broke a dull wall. Where a poor lady with her two poor children-two girls making them a lullaby sleep managed to escape unhurt from the accident.

 

Within a minute no sooner did it break, there came across the road, a lot of laborers with leaving their handy work aside handling the auto spare parts what came in their hands at the spot. And within a no minute there took place a riot-made of labors-to beat and cheat and make sweat the drunken.

 

Amidst then, another a torn mother, while the bunch breaking the bones of the drunken, has managed to tell the story what happened with tears in her both the eyes that are about to fall down with her cranky red- saree and black- blouse on the dark black body dusted with the dry street that,

 

“These business people have no taste of us, the poor torn lives. They think we are torn physically and mentally both sir. You see, how the lady, the neighbor of us has managed to escape from the horrible accident. Please see, sir, her two twin born children cheerfully playing. What if she would die of the accident, sir. would this urban man hear their atrocity? Would he help them? Would he get success to give her children the same life, again, sir? Tell me. You are seeming the successful man like him. But you may hear us, the third class street side people. The drainage dumping people who pick up the polythene, paper bags thrown by urban to live upon. To bred our children. Not to be broken the laws made by master society, we are broken like the rag in the dumping yard. But see, sir, these people even don’t concern our lives. Our souls. Our futures. And our children. ‘See how do we manage to stop our tears to be fallen,’ she showed tucking a tear on the corner of her index finger. See, sir, this drop can’t be mingled with our bodies like these rich people whose colors of the bodies and drops both are same. Look, here, sir, our body and the color of the drop, sir, are both different.however, does it not the drop that came from the sentiments placed in the depth of the body, sir? Look, is this not a drop of the flop sir?”

 

“And moreover, this man, the business man did accident with enjoying the stereo sound, sir. See, you can see the player in the car. And the disks on the stand, sir. And with in full joy, with in the drunken state, did break this dull wall, sir. What if the wall would fall on the mother? Or on the children? Who would look after them, the children? Would that drunken abuser, dirty father of the children who rummage only nothing doing except, who comes at night with a bottle daily in his pocket and a packet ofdrug and beat the mother?”

 

She continued to clear her poor gullet filled with many such agonies, atrocities. The poor female. But, however, the victim lady could manage to escape unhurt from the accident. From being left alone; leaving her two children, two girls alone.

 

Now the riot which has been remain silent till now, intensified it’s thrill to crush down the drunken. One of them looking six packed beat with a wooden rod the skull that however, the skull left unbroken. Another one kicked with both left and right foot, with tongue tucking in to the teeth, on his hips forcefully that in one shot the drunken fell down with face to the ground. One of them middle aged mighty man with bulgy eyes and mustache with white face- fat- that became red with the blood of the head smacked saph… saph on the cheeks, and strained the both ears so tightly, forcefully that the force came on his face that the teeth that tightened and eyebrows shortened. And one, came betweens and kicked on the crotch at the centre of his two thighs, however slightly, that the drunken being in state of drinking not cried, though but a  pale blood appeared at the zip on his trouser.so he slept tightly on the ground taking knees in arms able to do nothing.

 

The drunken who has been remain silent till now, began to speak however and joining palms prayed them, weeping, to please upon him. His guilt. He would never do again . by drinking never he will drive the car. His clean shirt completely torn in strips that fluttering by the breeze like Indian tricolor on independence day. "Now he understood what the pain is. What the life is. When he was beaten. When he in conscious state saw the scratch marks red with blood on his chest and waist.” Said another.

 

But moreover now unable to bear he, to the beating of the crowd, pleaded them,” please, sir, take me to police, sir, please. Take me to lock up, sir. Surrender me to them. That I did the crime, sir. That the three lives have however managed to escape unhurt from accident. Take me to police quick, sir.” He pleaded them by committing his guilt. “surrender me to them, sir, or call them to arrest me. But, please, sir, don’t beat. Don’t get anger on me. Don’t get furious, please, sir. I may not manage to see you, sir, with your serious faces.” He wailed before them.

 

The earth beneath his feet budged an inch seeing the six packed young man’s serious face and middle aged mighty man’s bulgy eyes, mustache with white face seriously.

 

“Now he understood, that pleading for police; and police station is right place for him, though we beat that is the supplement.”

 

So they took him dumping in an auto to the police station.

 

As soon as the auto left the red place made with blood, one of them opened forcefully the door of the car which was locked by the drunken himself when he was being pulled out. And saw a little girl of not more than eight years sleeping a lullaby sleep and was just being woke up by the clinking sounds rubbing the eyes.

 

The people of the colony who did beat her father just a moment before, began to interrogate her that from where they were coming. And what her name and her father’s. what about her mother. The rich businessman’s wife. They asked with villainous faces. However she replied thus, she was studying in fourth class. And.......... her father was..... he was............he was..........................................

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

......... He wasa D-R-I-V-E-R of the car.and not the OWNER. And generally he does never drink. Today her birth day. They were going for a short tour- water resort. And theirs was a middleclass little family living in a slum, outskirts

 

Betweens one of them interrupted,” however, you know your father did an accident by which the two twin born Childs’ lives would have been torn, if their mother had been the victim of the accident. However she managed to escape unhurt from accident. Unlike you that you have mother to mourn of you. Love for you. But who WOULD look after them?”

 

“My mother…..! Mommy is NO MORE. To watch me. Love me. Only my daddy is there to look after me and my studies. She died when I was four of brain damage. Only my dear dad is for me. And where is he now?” She asked unaware of what happened keeping all the questions aside.

 

They informed her, “He is to police station to be beaten. To be electricuted. To come out from the drunken state, by their third degree treatment that with joy hearing the stereo sound he did accident, mmm..!”

 

But she doesn’t know what the police station is actually.

 

Then they switched on the stereo sound to see. As soon as they did, it threw the sound of the little girl’s cheerful chat who was seated in the car with her expired mom.

 

However she doesn’t aware the police station, unexpectedly her heart started pumping fast seeing the silent environment without her father as dull as a doomsday,that a part of her blood was in extreme pain..................................... So one of them received a call in the middle of their talk in which told the drunken was died betweens!

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Submitted: December 09, 2012

© Copyright 2021 sanju. All rights reserved.

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Spyguy

I'm sorry I've taken so long to come back and visit your stories... I wish I could speak & understand your original language, as I'm sure that your work in your native tongue would be amazing... I think you have a good concept in your story line...

Thu, November 21st, 2013 4:26am

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