From the inside looking out

I saw a woman holding a kid on her hip, and walking barefoot on the dusty roads along the street. A few paces ahead of her was a boy, skinny with ribs showing, who couldn't have been more than twelve or thirteen years of age. His well-worn shorts were the shade of an old brown carpet, rapidly losing its brownness.  He was busy propelling an old bicycle tyre along the road using a stick. He showed great control in keeping the tyre without falling on either side. Must have probably been doing it for sometime. Wary of the voice that bellowed his name out, he constantly looked back to make sure he was within earshot of his mother.

After a few minutes, the mother, with her child now wailing loudly, entered my neighbor's compound. Slowly, she found her way to the door. Rung the the doorbell and waited. The wailing grew louder. The little boy showed serious disinterest. The tyre now hung loosely around his right shoulder, after having served its purpose for now. He didn't seem to like what his mother was doing. Slowly, he started tugging her hand. Ignoring him, she rung the doorbell once more. This time, there was someone peering out at them through the windows. And something seemed to have been said. I couldn't make out what was said from where I was standing. Whatever was said, it didn't go down well with the boy. The stick and the tyre was abandoned. He took the child from his mother's arms, relieving her off the physical burden, and lead her out of the compound. He was clearly in command now.

***

The next voice I heard was of my mother's. I went upstairs to help my father arrange the table for Iftar. An assortment of dishes and drinks filled the table : dates, soup, samosas, vadas, Rooh Afza etc. I sat there staring at the items on the table, with the image of the mother and her son repeatedly playing itself out in my mind. I desperately wanted a distraction, preferably, in the form my doorbell ringing. . .

***

3.19 AM. Slowly, one by one, the lights of my neighbors' houses are coming into action, signalling the time for Sehur. I woke mother and father up. We will soon have a light meal and sleep. Life goes on as usual. Just no doorbells, though. . .