The terrace drew and embraced the mid-day sun, but was cool with the breeze. The view was stunning. I cast an eye over over the lake, and watched the men bathing, women washing and children playing. Their squalor was evident, but their happiness was enviable. The methodic drone of drilling resumed not far away, and I scanned around, capturing the scenes of everyday life, absorbing the warmth of the people I watched.
I saw the children running back to her, on time as always, and wondered where they’d earned last hour’s pay. How they earnt it was obvious, their hands and forearms were streaked with shoe polish which they instantly set about washing off in the ditch that trickled next to the road, behind their ragged tarpaulin shack. I could see their mum’s smile that they were home safe but pain in her eyes with how little they had made. She sent the smallest one off down the road, and upon her return a few moments later they sat around the plate of rice dhal and ghee. They were living as the poorest of the poor, the mother spot-ridden, unable to move as her arms had seemingly long ago given up supporting her whole body weight. I can only guess how she lost her legs. Yet this women’s love and kindness for all around almost glowed from her. I saw her take the small bundle that her daughter just brought back from the shop, and chuck some catnip at each of the strays that were sprawled around the family. She and I both knew the family would be hungry when they went to sleep tonight, yet she still felt compelled to care for the cats around her. She looked up and caught my eye, as I sipped on my Lassi, and the guilt in me must’ve been apparent. Yet she flashed those teeth with the purest smile I’ve ever seen; at that moment I stopped liking Karla and started to love her.
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