Bad Luck

• Shourodip Chatterjee, Grade 12
• Short Story
• 2017

My bare feet slap against the road. Rocks dig into my soles but I keep on running through the ever busy market place. In the middle of the sensory onslaught of blaring horns, bicycles and rickshaws crawling everywhere, and the heady smell of jalebi-s frying I dodge and duck around shining BMWs and dusty old bullock carts. My worn and torn tunic sticks to my heaving chest as I keep ahead of Rajesh, the shopkeeper who caught me stealing his produce, who persistently chases me, his face is set in an ugly and angry expression. I give the old man a winning smile as I hitch my bag closer to me before slipping into a side street. Although my escape seems to be successful I run through the confusing mess of streets in a random pattern for a while to shake off any pursuers. Brushing my hand against a familiar building, I duck into the alleyway and continue at a more leisurely pace. Under the angry glare of the sun I pull one of my hard-earned prizes. For some people fresh fruits were easy to come by, bought from the specially refrigerated sections of supermarkets. For people who live in the slums like me, however, fresh food like this is a scarce commodity, the prices far higher than we could ever afford.
In the sweltering heat of an Indian summer, the sweet and cool apple is a welcome treat for me. Which is why even when I’m done crunching down on one crisp fruit, I gaze longingly at the remaining juicy red apple in my bag.
‘No that’s for Krishna!’ I am quick to admonish myself and tear my eyes away. The taller and more athletic boy loved apples even more than I did. It would be mean to eat his share especially since he is a fellow orphan and thief like me. Not only do we live in the slums together but we were both born and raised there. Krishna is one of the few slum kids that won’t turn around and stab you in the back at the first sign things are going wrong. It was under his tutelage I learnt the tricks of surviving on the streets like who to steal from and where to run if you were chased.
‘Where is that idiot anyway?’ I looked around confused as I reached our usual rendezvous point. Krishna had discovered this spot a few weeks back, the alcove was large enough for the both of us to relax in. Unless you were looking for it, the spot was practically invisible in the empty side-street. It was our agreed spot to meet up in after an afternoon of thievery. Usually as the better thief out of the pair of us Krishna would get back first. Most days I would arrive certain that I had beaten him only to be greeted with his cheeky grin. Today, however, Krishna was late. I didn’t think much of it thought and just sat down on a nearby crate. He would get back soon.
He always did.