I see a balloon half-filled with water suspended in the air supported by a thin wire. Someone from the crowd treads towards the balloon intending to pop it. He is holding a sharpened match in his right hand pointing towards the base of balloon. He is trying to stab that match into the balloon, but it remains unpunctured. The reason for failed infiltration is that he pointed the piercing tool incorrectly. His index finger was not proportionately fixed with his thumb.
An old fellow intervenes and grabs his hand. He calls him an amateur with a sarcastic laughter. With the piercing sound of his irritating laughter, he takes the charge. He deserves to be described: he is a tall man with a thin physique; has a round-wrinkled face with innumerable moles; has got a definite amount of grey hairs left on his head. Now, he is holding the match in his trembling hand. He makes an attempt by using his complete physical strength, but unfortunately his attempts seem to be unfruitful as his fingers stab that balloon repeatedly in lieu of that sharpened tool.
It is because, he cannot hold that thing for an instant. Poor fellow he is. However, in this case, the aim as to the instrument was accurate. There comes a very young boy holding a cone ice-cream. He walks towards to spectators with an inquisitive face. When he looks at the object of desire, he brings out a pin from his pocket. He must have stolen that thing from the school's notice board. Gently, he is moving towards that frustrating object. He has reached. My eyes are firmly fixed at his movements. He has taken a sharp turn. I heard a popping sound. The audience has barred my vision. That kid has vanished. I can see nothing, but can hear claps of uncertain hands.
Written by Imran Nosherwani
