A beating heart greets Kanishka as she woke up. Birds began chirping which sounded strange but was actually quite mellifluous as the sky grew dark. She quickly got out of bed and out of the room. The sight she hated most was there.
"Bugh! Bugh!" that man punched her mother.
"You are nothing more than a burden!" he yelled.
It's always been that way, Kanishka's father has always hit her mother after drinking heavily. Her mother begged for mercy on the floor but her father would not stop until Kanishka showed up and threatened to summon the neighbors. Kanishka's threats always work, despite the fact that none of the neighbors care what's going on. Their life is also difficult, possibly even more so than ours.
The government has paid less attention to the city's coastal area. The place is named seemingly out of nowhere because neither the government nor social activists care about it. Since it is rundown and small, even calling it a city is inappropriate. Kanishka's neighbors make money by collecting trash and reselling it for a pittance, barely enough for a mouthful of rice. There was someone Kanishka knew well.
The shabby dressed boy was searching for plastic bottles in a trash can near a restaurant that serves chicken biryani. He smiled and waved when he saw Kanishka. Kanishka approaches him.
"Chara, what's your dream?" asked Kanishka suddenly.
"I wouldn't dare. Dreams are only for those who are rich and have lots of money," Charapata replied with a straight face.
"Really? Do you really have no dreams?" Kanishka was baffled.
"A few days ago, someone asked me the same question. My dream can eat tomorrow morning, I said. Then he handed me a bag of biryani rice. The next day, my photo was widely posted everywhere with caption inviting sympathy at the bottom. He posted it without my permission," Charapata's face was gloomy.
"What's the point?" Kanishka asked once more.
