This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 11; the eleventh edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

Emaciated and spent she cradled her naked, famished infant to her dilapidated breasts. He tried to squeeze out a drop of milk into his mouth . He did not have the strength even to suck , nor did she have any milk to give. Two more little children huddled close to her.

Hunger stood like a demon in front of them. It’s better to die than to starve like this ,she thought.

Unable to withstand the misery any longer she placed the howling infant in the lap of the other child and dragged herself to the nearest garbage can.

Rummaging through the trash her eyes caught sight of a plastic bag with some leftover fruits in it.

Hurriedly She pulled up the bag and with trembling fingers opened it.


The birds flew from the trees surrounding the busy cross-section and along with them their remaining flesh, bones and blood.

An infant’s cry pierced the still summer noon.

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.


27 thoughts on “Hidden

  1. that was so sad Tiku..scary but it does happen!

    Yes Neha… I saw one such family near India Gate and the sight still haunts me. there was no bomb blast but hunger yes .


  2. Hi,

    Though the story has a ‘gory’ element attached to it, one can’t deny that every bit of it is true. Such incidents always leave a scar on heart and soul. More so, if you’re a beholder!

    USP of this post according to me: Speaks volumes in few words.

    Good luck with BATOM! 🙂


  3. Boom. I got separated from myself. from the body into the smoke self… i see it more that just being literal!!! rice read – but teary. I see ourselves in that. more than in literal terms.


  4. that was a beautifully captured piece of reality. Truly the bomb would have been their deliverance, but the cry of the infant? to live in this terrible world without the comfort of even a mother’s arms?


  5. A big thank you for all the love and appreciation for my work of fiction. Reality bites and the line is thin between relaity and fiction as we know.

    I welcome all the new visitor to my blog. Keep dropping by.

    Muchas Gracias


  6. don’t know whether to feel happy for them or sad for them. Was the bomb a welcome release after all from this miserable life to start fresh again in another life?


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