Mrs. Kapoor had been locked up in the house for five days. The refrigerator stock was at an all-time low, as supplies were interrupted. The vendors could not reach the house. Domestic help was marooned in their homes, or battling for survival somewhere. She was old and infirm, and not fit enough to cook for herself. Her loyal cocker spaniel lay quiet near her bed, not asking for anything, in quiet acceptance of the situation.

She managed to come near the window, what was happening outside. The shrill voice of a young girl surprised her,

“Can you open the door, Mrs. Kapoor? I have got something for you.”

Mrs. Kapoor could not suppress her tears, as the kid walked in with a tray of food for her, and milk and biscuits for the dog.

“My Mom managed to get some stuff today, and has sent this for you.”

Mrs. Kapoor was the richest woman in the neighbourhood, and had never bothered to mingle with the less privileged, as she perceived them.

The township was devastated by the floods, but had brought people together. The differences were dissolving in the dirty water around them, to be washed away from eir lives.


Sunday Photo Fiction

22 thoughts on “Dissolution

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