A Hunchback Man

Posted: December 18, 2011 in Uncategorized
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

The bus stopped in the rush of a young evening. She left her warmth on the seat by the window. It was dark, it was raining, she ran home with all the bags from which she hoped to get a slice of happiness. She ran home to share her warmth, but why did she look back all of a sudden?

An old man looked up and felt the pain of his aged huncback in my eyes. I heard all his screams, tearful words that he silenced with his a little feminine yellow scarf. It was dark outside, it was raining. He found a table but none of the seats were comfortable or soft enough .He touched the cover of his book after he had found the chair that could bear him. He smelled the book and smiled before he read the first line at the bottom of the sky high building’s dim cafe. He looked back and turned the first page, and second and third, the lines murdered his smile. He looked at me and we looked back…

Huncback of our time.

We apologised to Muhamed Bouazizi for not hearing him before he sacrificed himself to end all kind of corruptions from which millions suffered for years. He smiled when we told him what happened after he had gone, how everybody became another Muhamed in Tunisia to break the black chain on the throat of justice and freedom.” Ben Ali is not in power any longer, although the country is not at a better state yet, but it will.”, we said. He smiled and we carried on saying how his courage reached up to Egypt, Libya, Yemen, Syria soon after his death. He dropped his smile, looked down and slept…

An Afghan woman looked frightened when she saw his hunchback getting bigger and bigger there in Afghanistan. She picked her little girl, ran home and closed her door. Dust, blasts, screams and shoots blurred our visions just like they did country’s past and  future. An armed soldier approached and asked why we were there, she opened curtain, looked back and soldier was shot. He looked back when he bled but no one was there…

The stones thrown at his hunchback in Palestine and Israeli soldier shared a bullet with me. I looked back at kids and they came to dress my wound in Palestine. They were angry, they were hurt, they were poor ,they were orphaned but they were still full of love, they had millions of questions in their eyes. A tall boy with olive skin asked “Why? This is our country, our home!” “It has always been our land, our home, where did you all come from?”, shouted back ,the Israeli soldier with gun. Kids threw more stones and they did run. They looked back, tall boy was dead. They looked back anger spread, they looked back justice was dead…

“Where is my dad?” asked him an Iraqi girl when we went to Iraq. He looked at American soldiers who were going home to see their mums, dads and kids. They laughed as his hunchback started to grow. He held her hand and soldiers laughed but somehow they looked back, even the dusts were upset about what they done in the past years. They looked back again but nobody in the land waved…

Bradley Manning!”, he said,” Jullian Assange!”, he exclaimed , “And people, people who know  that justice can’t grow in the high buildings or it can’t be killed in the smallest cells or in the bloodiest wars, none of the black books nor are the most noble hands good enough to deliver justice. It is in disguise and it always prevails but not always as soon as we expect.” His hunchback got smaller and smaller, it was almost invisible now.“Happy birthday Bradley Manning!” ,said the Iraqi girl and we  waved…

He wanted to smell the book once again after he turned the page hundred and he smelled it but didn’t smile this time. He looked back at the first page and closed the book. Sighs in his eyes, he started to write something on a  card. It was raining outside and it was dark. He put the card in a white envelope and walked out. He didn’t look back but why did he forget to take it? Maybe it was for anyone and that could be me or for the lady next to me or maybe another soul who hasn’t even seen him at all.

“To You!”, said envelope ,there was no name on it. “Those who do right never look back. When they do, they intend to correct those who look back or they know that they have to watch their back” ,said on the back of the card which pictured and old tree with all its roots visible. I put the card back into the envelope, left it on the table and never looked back when I walked out.

It was still dark outside and it was raining. They say it is Christmas soon, not for the man in a sleeping bag on the street. Why did this guy with a silver bag looked back before he got in his car? I just wanted to go home and think, how often do I  look back and why? How do I need to watch my back? Who was that man and why was he hunchback?

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