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The Prayer

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TellTaleThursday hosted by @anshu and @priya

Haria raised his hands in prayer to the torn picture of Lord Shiva in his hut. His wife did not join him for once. Her tears had dried to silent, unshakable sorrow.

How could he make her understand that their little one could not survive the harshness of their conditions? That he could not watch her heart stop beating from starvation. 

He prayed to the Lord to see his daughter in a peaceful place, free of hunger and strife. His resolve strengthened on seeing the Lord's throat, blue from swallowing the poison of the ocean to save all humanity. He too would swallow this poison to save their daughter, and may the Lord forgive him for the act of cowardice he was going to commit.
*
Haria was in the line of beggars outside the temple. He lay on a torn blanket with his eyes shut while the other beggars waited hawkishly for food and alms. All he wanted was to die, but life had cruelly kept him alive all these years. 

His daughter would have been a grown up. His malnourished brain somehow still remembered her endless questions like it was yesterday.

Baba, am I a princess? When will I grow big like you and Ma? When will we live in a palace?

He closed his eyes shut, tears streaking down the sides.

There was a sudden commotion. All the beggars milled around the rich who came to the temple to do charity. He lay where he was, eyes tightly shut, waiting for the ruckus to subside.

He opened his eyes to someone softly calling out to him. He saw a rich, middle aged man standing over him, food in a plate. His eyes widened in shock as recognition dawned slowly but surely. He immediately looked behind the man and there she was. The same almond eyes as her mother. But the nose and chin were all his. He watched in a daze, his heart aching, beating like a drum.

His soul must have beckoned, for his little princess, dressed in the finest of clothes, her skin glowing with health and happiness came and stood right before him.

“Water”, he croaked through his dry throat.

She poured water down his throat, slaking an entire lifetime of thirst. He raised his hands in a wide hug, then hastily held up his palms in blessing. His arms wouldn't come down even as his throat could not muster the strength to form words.

He knew he would die now, that life had kept him alive just for this moment. He watched his daughter's receding back and closed his eyes, folding his hands in prayer one last time. He drifted into a peaceful sleep and waited to tell his wife how right his decision to abandon their precious child at the doorstep of the rich, childless couple had been.

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