Toffees and Juices

It was a sunny day. The traffic comprised of a usual composition; a man with statistics on his mind might further support this observation. Though the traffic ran smooth and undisturbed, there was one particular junction where it condensed. Here the heat and blaze from the cars seemed atypical as the engines hummed silently for the traffic signal to open.

For many at the busy junction it was a lucky day for examination results were due. For others it was rather unlucky for very different reasons. Indeed some could blame their bad luck on a fairly dusty batch of stale toffees and expired juices.

Just as typical as it was for a certain number of blue colored vehicles to standby the signal, it was typical for beggars – children and elderly alike – to rush upon the waiting cars. Some exposed their disfigured hunches and burns to gain sympathy while other carried some cheap merchandise they would either steal or win over in a gamble. Among such beggars were two brothers around the age of ten.

The younger brother Javed was blonde, though the searing sun had taken a liking to him and given him a deep tan which then gave him an unnatural look. Yet with his innocent face and huge eyes he could not be considered a sore sight, especially bearing in mind his thin arms and fleshless trunk. Not a favorite in his neighborhood perhaps but he was a nice talkative lad with the repute of being mischievous.

The elder brother Hamid had a thicker, darker and curlier crop of hair which then matched his tanned skin. He was bulkier then Javed though the interpretation of him being healthier as well would be misleading; it were genes that ensured their default physiques. Also compared to Javed he was less talkative yet more likable.

Both lived at a nearby settlement of poorly constructed huts with inefficient sewerage. This settlement was overshadowed by the skyscrapers accommodating offices for the elite, surrounding the junction. They were partially responsible for the excess of traffic at the junction. There they lived with their family of two brothers and eight sisters, the eldest of which was to get married soon. Being the only boys in the house they were burdened with the responsibility of supporting their sisters and mother and alongside pay what little they could save for their ailing father's treatment.

Though heart touching one might find it, their situation was considered a cliché in the neighborhood with many a family starving to death while others searching for darker methods to sustain themselves. The brothers however had little hesitation of picking up any scrap remains from a store they could find. They then dashed to the busy junction, closely dodging cars hoarding angry passengers. This particular day Javed held in his pouch a bag full of stale toffees while Hamid held an opened crate of juices.

The two brothers ran around, waving the merchandise; partially indifferent to the sale but also conscious that it was this work of theirs that was supporting the whole family. Thus they stood patiently on the searing side walk in worn out sandals that were barely less sizzling than the road side. Along with them were acquaintances from the same or neighboring settlements; all knew each other. It was an unspoken rule that outsiders were not allowed to station themselves at "The Junction" a somewhat scaled down model of the local mob ruling underworld.

As the traffic signal turned red, vehicles would slow down, some turning off their engines even in the heat to cut down fuel consumption. Hamid and Javed were the first to pick separate vehicles; each contorting his face into an image of innocence and poverty yet not imposing helplessness.

The beggars at the junction had spent generations in the business. They knew the tricks that would earn them some coins in comparison to nothing. The two brothers on the other hand had pride. They had pride in their fights, in their friendship and in their family. Yet for the sake of that very family they would not think twice about leaving home

Hamid noticed that the stale juices were accepted mostly by the working class travelers; people who had their windows down and were breezing themselves with newspapers. Such people would happily accept even the stale juice with no complaint and might even give a tip. Javed noticed that the number and age of children in a car were primarily responsible for his selling's. Be it even the high reputed businessman, his equally high pampered children would make him give in.

Both lads were gifted and hardworking. Had fate led them to a slightly different road, they would have blossomed beautifully. Alas fate had other plans for them.

Some miles from the junction swerved a bus packed with grumpy passengers, packed tightly. The bus was already late by ten minutes but it seemed that the delay would not stop at that. The driver Khalid was still cursing one bloke he had thrown off the bus with much difficulty for his crude behavior with a female passenger. While he had tried his best to please the passengers with his actions, Khalid had only received complaints for delaying them over one passenger. The woman, however looked obliged, with an apologetic expression yet within the onslaught of complaints, she was hardly noticed.

Khalid had never hated his job; though qualified to be a clerk in certain institutes, he had preferred the bus driving service for he despised the very idea of working for enterprises that fooled the innocent civilian and robbed them. There might have been fairer cases but they were few. Yet his public service – though patient and polite – proceeded with not as much zest as he had initially thought.

But he had made a choice and he was content with it as the horns behind him honked impatiently. This day though he was not feeling as cheerful as he usually would. It was an unlucky day he presumed.

They were nearing the busiest junction of the city. The signal on their side was red and the passengers groaned as if it were Khalid's fault. Nevertheless Khalid kept a straight face as he pressed on the brake pedal, slowing the bus as he aligned the bus to join the queue. Just then a passenger – with the sole purpose of annoyance – got off his seat and proceeded to the door of the still moving bus. Khalid, losing patience turned towards him and yelled at him to sit down. He ignored the road at the worst possible time. Perhaps it WAS an unlucky day.

Javed and Hamid were having a tough time standing on the side walk while the traffic rushed by. Their worn out shoes were barely protecting the already scaled soles of their feet from the heat. They tried shifting their weight from foot to foot yet they had to endure the heat.

"It must be an unlucky day" they thought.

As the signal on their side closed, the two brothers rushed, off the platform. Hamid however, strained under the bag of juices struggled to keep up but as his feet touched the abrasive road, he yelped slightly and stumbled, falling on his knees. He gasped as pain seared through his body through the bruise he got but mainly due to the heat travelling up his bare legs, roasting his thin flesh.

Javed turned around at the cry and turned around quickly. As he did so the toffee bag tilted, spilling the contents. Javed saw his brother a little way back and advanced towards him, noting at the same timed the toffees strewn about and blowing away with the wind. He halted; unable to decide whether he should help his kin first or pick up the toffees that were the only source of contentment for this day. Both brothers stood in the open road, oblivious of a bus heading in their direction.

Khalid yelled in anger as the man, slightly intimidated by Khalid's rash behavior returned to his seat. But it was too late. When Khalid turned back, the bus was not slow enough.

Javed made up his mind and extended the hand to his brother trying to pull him up. That was when they too realized that it was too late.

A screech was heard above the honking and humming of traffic, followed closely by a bump. Few passengers were concerned with it and out of the few that might have shown interest, most could not see what happened. What all knew was that there were toffees and juices scattered all over the place.

A mother twirled her fingers in her lap as she sat in the mud hut that accommodated half of her family. She was preparing the same broth they had the previous day, hoping her sons wouldn't forget to bring the green chili. She was just putting it one stove when footstep outside and loud shouting made her stop.

She could judge that it wasn't a small fight and that something serious had occurred. Then among the cries and shouts she head a few words that made her heart skip a beat and spill the broth as she stood up. "Two", "boys" and "toffees and juices".

She called out to her daughters, screaming at the top of her lungs as she hurried to wear her veil. The daughters scampered out of the other room and after a few words, realized what was worrying her and they hurried alongside her.

They then ran to the junction where there was a crowd of people that didn't belong there. The mother ran up to the crowd. She shoved away people, reaching the center of the crowd.

All people stared with annoyance at the battered lady as she gasped for breath, her heart beating faster then ever. Yet she didn't give a shreds worth of attention to them. She just stared at the puff of gold and black curly hair, side by side, peeking from under a bloodied sheet. She stared, her sniffs rose, her eyes filled with tears as she fell into uncontrollable sobs, resounding off the nearby cars and filling the air with dismay and remorse.

Her daughters arrived by her side, staring at the scene. The youngest sister, who had played in their laps, thrown what little of the food they had at them and had always had their attention, stared, no tears rising into her eyes, unable to realize what had happened. The elder ones however, started crying, falling to their knees, unable to feel the residual heat from the descending sun that was flowing from the road to their torn souls.

Within moments, passed all their times together, how they had been caught keeping a kitten, how they had once beaten an older boy who had insulted their sister, how they had come home muddied one day, holding a  note of thousand rupees that someone had dropped… The memories appeared and faded just like the lives of their brother.

As the eldest daughter shifted, she heard a crackle and stared at the remains of a toffee under her knee. She picked it up, recalling the last words Javed had said:

"Shindra Baji, you are too old to eat toffees! And these are stale too! If you want some, I will buy some fresh ones from the shop for you"

Realizing that those soft spoken words were long erased brought more tears to her eyes as she buried her face in her hands.

Their mother extended a shaky hand towards a squashed juice on the road and held it to her breast.

"Mama, Mama I know you are thirsty but these juices do not quench thirst. You should drink more water. After all you are so frail…"

She sighed deep, staring once again at the two small shapes covered on the side of the road without traces of any ambulance that might consider taking them away. She steadied herself to the point that she could step up as she neared the two bodies lying among colorful toffees and juices. She smiled knowing that heaven might take care of them better than she was able to.

Her daughters also aligned alongside, to pick up the bodies and bury them respectfully. Yet they couldn't decide whether to be more sorrowful over the death of their brothers or over their own dark future.

Khalid was already in a police car with handcuffs on and accompanied by two policemen who were abusing him constantly over the death of the two children, totally unconcerned about the victims themselves. He ignored those voices yet the last glimpse he saw of the boy and the innocence in his eyes would give him nightmares.

He suddenly chuckled; a grim chuckle. The policemen stared at him curiously, assuming soon that he had lost it. Yet he chuckled at a very basic thought. He had been wondering about it the whole day and now he was sure.

It truly was an unlucky day.






Ending

The two boys were buried side by side at the local graveyard. They had always worn passed down clothing, be it from their sisters when they were young, or people in the neighborhood. But they were promised a new set of clothes for the marriage of their sister. They did – lying in white cotton burial shrouds – they did get to wear new clothes while the empty celebrations above continued in the dark night.