The Sorrow of an Innocent Angel

The colorful clothes of the people in the marketplace spread hues like a rainbow. The constant movement of shopkeepers and customers added even more vibrancy to those colors. The murmurs of the crowd, the calls of street vendors, the arguments between buyers and sellers, the laughter of groups of wandering youths, and the harsh noise of impatient horns all merged into the air of the bazaar, crushing the faint voice of poverty and dissolving into the sky.

Tied with strings to a wooden bamboo pole were many balloon toys of different colors. A ten-year-old boy held the pole in his hand, calling out in a soft voice, selling balloons for five rupees each. His round, wheatish face held deeply sunken, large white eyes. His hair was slightly short, and he wore a worn-out, liver-colored shirt that looked far more shabby than his trousers. On his feet were old shoes, worn thin and torn at several places.

It was as if poverty shone from his entire being, as clearly as sunlight. From morning till evening, after selling balloon toys for five rupees each, that innocent angel would return home.

Last week, when all his balloons had been sold, the toys displayed in the glass showcase of a market shop completely captured his attention. He stood there for a while, gazing at them with shining eyes. Among the neatly arranged toys inside the showcase, a small toy car seemed to dance in his eyes.

After reading the price written on the tag attached to the car, he quietly walked back home. For an entire week, he kept saving money. During that time, after selling all his balloon toys each day, he made sure to visit that shop. Every glance at the toys in the showcase sent waves of happiness through his heart. The fear that the toy might be sold slowly turned into reassurance, and the deeply set white eyes on his wheatish face sparkled with hope.

After one week, he gathered all the crumpled notes and coins and counted them carefully.

That day was the day his desire was to be fulfilled—the day of his greatest victory. As usual, after selling balloons and toys, he returned to the market again. By evening, only two balloons remained unsold, with no customer in sight. After some thought, he entered the toy shop, took all the coins out of the right pocket of his shirt, placed them on the counter, and pointed toward the toy car.

The shopkeeper told him he was five rupees short.

The innocent angel untied one balloon from the string and placed it in front of the shopkeeper. The shopkeeper shook his head in refusal and said,

“No… this won’t do. Bring five rupees, and then you’ll get the toy.”

As he stepped outside, his eyes fell upon a little girl standing at the square. With her right hand, she tugged at her mother’s shirt, and with her left hand, she pointed toward the balloons.

A smile appeared on the innocent angel’s face. He rushed toward them, handed the balloon to the child, and received a five-rupee coin in return. Holding it tightly, he turned back toward the toy shop.

As he neared the shop, he hurried forward in excitement. Suddenly, another child collided with him and ran past, making humming sounds while holding the very same toy car in his hand. The child disappeared from his sight along with his mother.

The bamboo pole fell to the ground, and the last balloon burst the moment it hit the floor.

For a long time, he stood staring at the showroom. His body had turned lifeless, like wood. Tears streamed continuously from the deeply set white eyes of his wheatish face, soaking the five-rupee coin resting in the palm of his right hand.