Flash fiction

Impatience

It was around 8am Ananthan was talking on the landline phone in the drawing hall. He seemed deferential in tone and all attentive. The caller must have been his senior boss on urgent matter.

His six-year-old son came running to the hall and tugged his shirt calling “Papa, come with me”. He looked at his child angrily and signaled with his hands to remain quiet,

The little boy did not stir but pulled him more vigorously and said sobbing “Papa, come quickly. You can talk on phone later.”

Balancing the receiver on the ear and simultaneously cupping it near the mouth with one hand, Ananthan slammed the boy on his back and pushed him away even as he shouted, “You dirty scoundrel, get lost from here before I kill you.”

The boy who fell down rose up immediately and clasped his dad’s legs crying inconsolably and telling, “Papa, amma has fallen down on the kitchen floor and not answering. Fire is burning big all around. I am terribly afraid. Come immediately

Ananthan dropped the receiver and ran towards the kitchen shouting “Why did you not tell me earlier, you fool,” even as he heard a loud sound from the kitchen side.

The Saviour

Gunaseelan was waxing eloquent at the local Corporation school on Children’s day on his concern for children and the gross violations of Child Labour Act. There was a large crowd of children and their parents, mostly mothers.

He thundered on “It is highly deplorable that in our country that tender children who should be studying in primary and elementary schools are employed in tea shops, tailoring, provision stores, eateries, match factories and fireworks units toiling all day long in unhealthy conditions. The Child Labour Act specifically prohibits children below some age limit from employment.

It may be said that the poor parents themselves send their children for work to augment family’s income. Still it is illegal as it barters away the children’s golden future for narrow temporary selfish ends. I strongly condemn this practice and vouch to take it up for stricter enforcement of laws. I would plead in the legislature for a special grant of monthly allowance of Rs. 1000 to children in BPL families. The quality of mid-day meal should also be greatly improved and books and notebooks given free.”

There was an audible appreciation with loud clapping for a long time. Gunaseelan was happy at the good impression he had made before the parents particularly two months ahead of the elections.

He concluded his speech with a loud statement in his stentorian voice, “Every child found working is a stigma to this constituency and particularly against me. I am sure you would extend your support to fulfill my pledge made before you .”

As he alighted from the car past 11pm and entered his house, he shouted “Meenakshi, send that boy Babu to my bed room. My legs are aching after a long day of speeches.

As he lay on the cot in the air conditioned room with his legs stretched, the eight-year-old kid Babu in his shorts and banyan was seen standing massaging the man’s legs continuously. At frequent intervals the leader was admonishing the boy, “You dirty scamp, massage properly giving good pressure. If you do not do well, I will flog you and starve you.”

It was more than an hour and the leader was seen dozing with a soft snoring. The room had turned cold. The hungry and sleepy boy slightly slackened a bit prompting the leader to get up and give him a sharp cuff (குட்டு) on his head with his closed fingers. “Rascal, are you sleeping when I dozed a bit? I will skin you alive you scoundrel “exploded the great saviour of children.