The policeman, sighs, as the rain's tempo increases. He's standing in the centre of the road, directing traffic. He hates his thankless job. But it's the red jeep that catches his attention. He stares at the dark, fat man, seating in the backseat. Fat man oozes of affluence. Policeman catches himself wishing they could trade places. If only poverty weren't his constant companion.
The fat man, seated in the backseat looks up in time to catch the policeman's stare. He's gotten used to seeing it. It's a mixture of envy, jealousy and a pinch of greed. The warden must have been standing there for hours. He frowns at his own legs. If only his legs could take him around. If only they weren't dead to all sensation. If only he hadn't been in that accident. He envies the warden, his ability to stand and walk unaided. He's still deep in thought, when the vehicle pulls into the hospital.
The doctor tries to push the feeling away as his wealthy patient speaks. The feeling is greed, burning within him. If only he were as wealthy as the patient. Then he wouldn't have to worry about being owed for 8 months. He wouldn't have unpaid fees, overdue rents. Then his heart wouldn't lurch whenever his wife made money demands. Maybe, then, he wouldn't spend so many nights,awake, staring at the ceiling. His wife walks into the office.
The driver of the wealthy man in the jeep turns his face away.The affection between doctor and his wife is as painful as it's beautiful. Young doctor in his faded shirt, threadbare trousers and bushy beard, the subject of affection of his damsel wife. If only he were the doctor. Because whenever he thought of home, he panicked. His wife, ever - angry and spoiling for a fight. His children, the number of a football team. His life, the noise that never ended. He wishes, that he had the peace and love doctor supposedly enjoyed.
Wife of doctor whilst leaving the room, notices the car keys, dangling from driver's fingers. She chuckles, wondering how different her life would be, if doctor had a car. Then she wouldn't have to worry whenever it rained and the pot - hole ridden roads became mud reservoirs. She wouldn't have to keep begging for lifts. If he were wealthy,she wouldn't need to keep another lover. The one that provided money for her expensive clothes, for the children's fees she paid. Then, her life, perhaps, might have been perfect.
You see, in the end, we all have a pain. We all possess an imperfection. A part of our lives we'd rather be rid of. How you manage yours, is solely your decision.