Overtime - short story

Madhavi bid goodbye to her client. 6th client of the night. It was 7.30 in the morning and the market was starting to buzz. She had counted her earnings when her clients were busy. Just the thought of having that money to save her daughter gave pleasure. Much more than what her clients got from her.

Madhavi's little daughter was in hospital. With a broken leg and multiple head injuries, the little one had little chances of growing big. Only the shots of injection to save her life. And each shot costed 5000. How could a prostitute of the market earn that? She worked overtime.

Madhavi counted the earnings of the day as she boarded the first bus of the day to the hospital.

Saritha decided to try her luck in the morning. She did not have any other option either. She was now the only bread earner for her family. Her husband, who was earning got burnt in factory fire. With 70% burns, his survival chance was slim. But the slim chance could turn fat with the shots of injections, that came at big price. How could the wife of a poor factory worker get that money? Saritha got back to her old work and worked overtime.

Saritha boarded the first bus of the day to hospital.

Saritha was a happy woman as she entered the hospital. She patted herself for the skill she had displayed. As she entered the ward, she saw the doctors frantically working on her husband. Within a few minutes, he was dead.

It took sometime for Saritha to compose herself. She went to the mortuary to get the dead body of her husband after postmortem.

Among lot of crying people, Saritha heard a faint voice..."I am sorry dear, I could not save you. I lost everything that I earned for your injection. Now I lost you. Let that bitch suffer the same fate. Let her see her loved ones dying and feel the pain."

Saritha turned towards the voice. She instantly recognized the tears filled face of the mother crying over a small kid's body. It was her pick-pocket victim in the morning bus, Madhavi.