The Sarcasm

The world lay buried in the depth of that tearing wintry night except some. They were the dogs, the beggars and the fervent nocturnal youth belonging to the civilized niche of this classified society. The smoke, the wine, the rasping music, the glittering lights and unrestrained wildness was what night meant to those reveling brutes. A door pushed open and a rhapsodizing crowd oozed out onto the empty, silent streets. It was a frigid dank winter dawn and the Sun was yet to rise. The raucous music that poured out through the door tried to amalgamate with the mundane moist air of the tranquil dawn but alas, it was hoarse enough to disrupt the silence till several yards. The intoxicated crowd marched on the streets with a drunken valor and faltering gait. The words were lost before they could find their way out moreover the ears were too deaf to hear.

The flame of their youthful ardor had died and they straddled through that narrow lane slandering everything which their drowsy drunken eyes could perceive. One of them went and kicked the lamp post while the other a bare street dog that lay half dead with cold…..and it woke up startled from its grave, whining and wagging its tail. As they made their way through those desolate slumbering streets rummaging the tranquility, a couple of sleepy eyes peered through the heavy eye lids as they pulled themselves up with great effort. The dying night was heralding the murky dawn……and as he craned his crest out of that Prussian blanket, he perceived the ferine roaring creatures mocking the wretched beings that lined the cobbled pavements. He stared at them with intense disgust and subtle heaviness as if endeavoring to fathom those sluggish beasts. One of them listlessly toddled towards the sleeping man and bent over him measuring that abominable dour beggar. She murmured something but it was lost in that cold moist air. The beggar gazed at the obtrusively clad tall girl with awe while she stared as if he was a loathsome object. It was perhaps his grotesque poverty and his unkemptness that made her look at him inimically. A faint smile smudged the corners of the dry lips and taking the shawl off her shoulders; she threw it at him….followed by a piercing laughter and then trotted away. It was laughter of ridicule!!!

The morning light slowly took reign over the night sky and traces of life appeared on the streets. A couple of municipal workers with two huge brooms were swishing the streets and heaped those colored wrappers at a corner of the pavement. The grey crested retired populace streamed towards the local park and the road was sparkling with life again. The beggar slipped out of his numerously patched torn blanket and wrapping himself in his newly gifted shawl he marched towards the shallow crowd that thronged the road several yards away. He jostled through the murmuring mob and perceived a thin delicate frame of a woman. It lay stiff but was still breathing. It was her, the generous owner of the gifted shawl!!! She had swooned and her companions had fled.

The beggar stooped over the delicate drunken beauty and sprinkled some water on her weary countenance, took the shawl off his shoulders and wrapped the girl with the same. But there wasn’t any smile of mockery or detest. The sarcasm of Life!!!