In Other Circumstances...

Photograph ~ © zoriah/www.zoriah.com

Is this grime that covers my face, or is it what the factory man calls it - my stubborn destiny?

I get up every morning and try to wash it away under the metal tap behind the corner shop. It doesn’t go.

I usually get up early to reach the factory on time. But today’s a different day. The factory man who pays me told me today’s a holiday... and so is tomorrow. And so are the days that shall follow. He says he is not able to sell enough foam, the foam we make everyday. People don’t need foam any more, he says. I wonder what all people use foam for. I could sleep on it though. I did once. And after that, have never. I was told never to sleep at work, lest I wanted my tongue removed from inside my mouth.

No work leaves me with a lot of time. I will have to think how I shall get food today. Or maybe that can wait till I finish drawing patterns on the sand. Maybe after that, I could go to the railway station for the day. That’s where everyone goes when there’s no work in the factory. I feel more secure there. There are a lot of people who have money and food. I’ll carry my brother along. He would get something to eat. Or perhaps not. Maybe if I keep him without food, he’ll stop wailing at nights, disturbing my sleep.

Some kids make fun of my attire at the station as I don’t wear pants anymore. My skin feels itchy and gives me trouble when i do. At times I’m so itchy that I can hardly work. So now I wear large shirts that reach till my knees, with knickers inside. I wonder how would it be to wear pants. To have yourself covered. Does it feel secure? Does it feel the same as having your own home to sleep in?

At times, I see people take pictures of us. We stand and pose… smile and frown at them as they say. I ask one of them to show the pictures to me. He does. But they are all black and white. No colors.

Looks good in black and white, he tells me.
More convincing and brings out stark emotions. And sells well.

I ask him if I can keep the one with me and my brother. He snatches it quickly and walks away.

I smile. My photos travel places that I don’t. They make the money that I don’t. Do they really sell well? Is it because they like kids? Is it because they like kids like me?

Its close to twilight now and I see a family sitting on a stone bench at the platform. A little girl sleeps in her father's arms. She seems to be at peace. Then I look at my brother who is asleep in my lap. He seems to be at peace too and…. and tired maybe... Suddenly, I also want to sleep. I find a corner to keep my brother, and sit by his side. I tie our right hands together so that he doesn’t go astray while I'm asleep. I remember my mother tying my hand to hers the same way when she went to sleep.

I’ll be quiet and go to sleep now. So, you can slowly tip toe and close the door behind me without making a noise, lest you wake me up again.

I see weird dreams. I see you wearing nice pants and drawing patterns on a huge blank canvass. I see they are not patterns. It’s a picture you are drawing, of me and my brother, with our hands tied to each other's.

What colors are you using? Please tell me. Please tell me they are not black and white.