The Street

It was a cloudy evening. The clock had struck Five and everyone was rushing back.
On the corner of the street, a large gathering was shouting and screaming. 

“Beat that bloody scoundrel…” a well-dressed guy in his late twenties was screaming. He was feeling a sense of supremacy. The master locked deep inside him had broken the shackles and woken up. From the slave act in the house and office, he was now the master of the moment. Lot of young lads echoed with him. One lad from the group came rushing to the man and struck him hard with his fist. 

“Well done. He deserved it…” a young lady applauded. Her friends beside her was comforting her. The lady was wearing very plush attire with loud make up. She was feeling a deep satisfaction inside. A momentary relief from her frustrated marriage life, which was fabricated in the balance of economics. 

The lad who was beating the guy was pulsating with pride. Deep inside he felt a sense of accomplishment which he couldn’t achieve in his twenty years. Twenty years of wasted life had now a greater meaning. He thought to himself. His friends was egging him for more…

In the group there were some young teenage girls who were giggling and whispering to each other. Lost in the voice of the crowd they were watching the event like a comic circus. A temporary escape from the torture hollow books and teachers. An event to brag about with their friends during the recess…

At the other end of the street a policeman was chewing tobacco. A passerby asked him to just look into the matter. Spitting the tobacco, he said to him, “Let the people sort it out. My shift if going to end. Let the other guy handle the matter.” The policeman had a really good outing with cash stacked in from a builder to handle the slum dwellers. 

The blood was dripping and his eyes had soared. He was an old man lying in his ground. 

“He tried to molest me. I was coming out the parlor and this guy from behind…” the lady was talking to the ground.

“Bloody old fucking troll…” the well-dressed guy said. 

Into the crowd an old lady came running. In her hands were some medicines. She was crying heavily. 
“Where my dear, where is he…” she said in broken voice. “Oh dear lord, what happened to you…”
She took her handkerchief and cleaned his bruise. “Who did this to you dear?” 
He was smiling when he saw her…

Everyone was silenced for a moment. For a moment. 

Then the young lady spoke. “You know what your bloody old husband did? He tried to abuse me”.

“Oh yes” echoed the crowd.

The old lady wiping the wound and holding her husband looked straight into the eyes of the lady.

“Abused. Do you know the meaning of abuse…?” 

The young lady deep inside truly knew the meaning of abuse and in contract of marriage the abuse is replaced by the word “compromise”.

“We had lost our daughter. She would have been exactly your age. Bubbly smart girl, but never like you, because she had heart of an angel. And angel took away from us…”

Suddenly the rain came pouring as the feeble crowd dissolved in the drops of reality...

The old lady held the hands of her husband, and got up. They slowly walked together into the oblivion. Never again the street saw them again…