One night, Banshilal Chaukidar, on his watch, looked at the moon and remembered when he had been a boy her mother had often compared him with it.
“I was damn handsome then.” he thought.
“But now I am not,’ he concluded.
‘Now I am a night guard on a temporary basis for a housing full of real-estate crooks and bad-tempered government officers. I carry a trembling hand and diabetes and I am old; but I don’t have the right to sleep- not even when my body gives up and my mind starts to play funny tricks on me. I wish my mother had known my fate. She would have thought ten times before comparing me with something so faultless and bright.”
Banshilal sighed while he tried to tame his hand.
An unexpected thought came to him after a while.
He thought, “Even if she could have known my future surely she wouldn’t have told me. I was the happiest thing that happened to her and for that she would have willingly lied. Just to remain cheerful for both of us. May be she was more helpless than I thought.”
Looking at that silent, magnificent, yellowish globule Banshilal began to laugh.