The Newspaper Girl
Those sparkling eyes cemented on a murky face by dust, dirt filed overgrown fingernails, scrambled curly hair, and that scintillating smile was rejuvenating for a soul. I have seen her standing in the corner of the street selling newspapers from morning till evening. I did have the pleasureful experience of this irksome job in my growing years. In this weather, standing on a cardboard box sheet with no footwear, made me realise from where she is coming. I walked up to her, “How are you?” kept 500 Rs. on her small box of coins, “Happy Diwali” and I left without saying a word. After crossing the road, I just turned back to see her, she was already running behind me leaving her small paper stall unattended, and like an over-excited 10-year-old kid she leapt and screamed “Happy Diwali Bhaiya!”. I laughed to see her running off to the newspaper corner. Walking back home, I was wondering if she would buy a pair of slippers of her but then I suddenly remembered, “Damn! I had left from home to fix my shoes from the cobbler.”
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