Depression, Durga Puja, Fiction, Homeless, Human behaviour

Durga Puja

The roll of the drums drowned out his sorrow. The strong odour of alcohol made his nose itch. His plate was empty minus a piece of roti. They were busy gobbling their food. He wore his usual torn shorts and four-year-old faded tee shirt. His right sandal was broken. They wore their new outfits, changing them day and night. His wife and child slept restlessly on the pavement, wishing their hunger would go away.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s