The Magic Trunk

Ashish must have been nine or so. He had skin so deeply tanned that it glowed to match the sparkle in his eyes which complimented his smile which was as genuine as the poverty he had to live with. Eighty seven rupees a day for a family of five is no handsome sum. 

One humid afternoon, in anticipation of an upcoming teachers’ day celebration, a small group of young boys discussed what they’d wear to their fancy dress parade. The well-fed ones who slept on expensive mattresses eagerly shared the details of what they were planning to wear. “I will wear the spiderman suit gifted to me on my birthday.” “I will come decked as a cowboy. I even have a pistol to complete my look.” “I will dress up like a professional cricketer. I will be all geared up in my cricket kit.” And so on. 

Ashish sat in a corner, listening intently, with an expression that was hard to read. There was just a slight hint of the smile that usually sat on his face. He wasn’t his cheerful self. He did not escape notice for long. One of the boys eventually quipped, “Oye, Ashish, what will you wear?”

With his eyes lowered, he replied, “All my fancy clothes are locked away in a trunk, and I don’t have the key.”