‘Anokhi, Any day this week’, those were Doctor saheeba’s only words, accompanied by her usual reassurance,  a soft pat on my cheek. She had once professed that I had been her prettiest subject. Unsurprisingly, she had attended many young women, most of them in dire straits.

My wretched state of affairs was inflicted upon me by my very own dreams. I chose to believe their words, that Mumbai is the land of opportunities, city of riches.In the end , it was my own choice. I had chosen to come to the city out of pure greed, like every other migrant.

The city slowly unwrapped its deformities. Lodged in the ubiquitous slums, I was abruptly engulfed by the raw stench and the deafening chaos of Mumbai’s civilization. My  dreams were diluted each minute, as my emotions were being adulterated. I steadily lost hope, harbored anger and resentment instead. I was on the edge, on the verge of complete breakdown, ready to sink into the clogged drains of Mumbai.

Hameed walked into my life at that very moment; not as a friend, not as a well-wisher but as a solution. He promised his complete support to fight against  my ill fate. With a deep sympathetic smile, days later, he gave me his rate card; a price list of ways to escape poverty. Although compassionate, Hameed too, was ultimately a businessman.

I was hardly disgusted reading the list. I had known I would have to resort to something like these. However, the job that would pay the most was something I could not comprehend. It seemed noble enough yet was carried out in the dark underbelly of the city.

I smile each time I sense a movement inside. Hameed told me that it is being born for a rich family. I am  glad it would live comfortably.  I can sometimes hear it talking to me, begging me to release it soon.

I will today.

Then I shall chase my dreams again.





5 thoughts on “Resilience.

  1. Wow! If Mumbai would be a woman, I’d say that while everyone saw the glitter of her beautifully painted nails, you observed the dirt under her nails. You beautifully presented a story which many would call sad and I like the touch of hope that you gave at the end of the story.
    Keep Blogging.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. Hope is the light that we imagine at the end of the tunnel. It’s what we use to stay motivated and keep walking. Perhaps, the tunnel leads to darkness and the tunnel itself is brighter than the darkness it leads us to? That’s just a cynical thought though.

        Liked by 1 person

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