STORY 6: KANGRI

Namaste!

Sorry for the late post guys. I have been busy with my semester exams. But better late then never. Well, here is a fiction story for you. But this may be the story of every second person belonging to septuagenarians'  category. We often feel irksome around elderly people. So, today I have dedicated this story to all the old generation folks. I have kept it short. Hopefully, you'll enjoy reading this. Share if you like and show your love by commenting.

Happy reading ♥️

THE STORY …


The armchair creaked as I stood to close the window. Before I could reach for it, the wind threw it open and a huge volume of cold air made its way inside my warm room. My face was hit by the chilled air. Yes, that stung but my face refused to move back. I closed my eyes. I inhaled as much air as I could, paused for a while and exhaled slowly. I wanted more of it. 

My nose and ears started getting numb. I pushed my thoughts away and closed the window in teeth of gale. I went back to my armchair. 

Oh! I forgot. My kangri needed refueling. I could see more grey then bright red. No, they were not ashes yet. It was already half past eleven. Should I let the coals die? Or should I refuel it?

I went inside and came out with a sack of coal. I took a handful of coal, put half of it back in the sack and then again dug to get more coal. I was quarreling with my thoughts. I put a huge lump of coal and blew with my mouth. Once the fire got back to life, I returned to my armchair and fixed my eyes on the bright red color of coals.

The dawn was yet to break. But the chaos was telling a different story. The smoke and the rush of people, both were making it difficult to figure out the peculiarity of the early morning.

"Oh! Poor lady ...who is going to perform the last rites?"
"They say she doesn't have any family ..." 
Adjusting her pallu over her head, sobbed a lady, "She was living all alone for the past twenty years ...oh poor poor lady ..."