Sweet and Sour
An Urban Story
If you haven’t read the previous three instalments of this story. Please read here.
All eyes were on the gardener as he stood on the dais. He looked nonchalant, a little sad if you observed closely, but not remorseful.
“Look at him!” Lata whispered to Salma. “He does not regret his actions at all!”
“Maybe he is not guilty,” Salma whispered back.
Lata shot an incredulous look at her friend. “He has confessed!”
“So, Keshu, you admit that you stole the mangoes?” the president asked to confirm, his chest puffed up like a vain rooster.
“I didn’t steal them,” the gardener replied in a slow, gruff voice.
“But you told me yesterday that you did!” the president’s chest puffed up even more in surprise and anger at the denial.
“I climbed up the tree and plucked the mangoes, but I didn’t steal them,” he said, looking at Ramesh, who squirmed uncomfortably.
Ramesh whispered something in the president’s ear. His chest deflated, and his face turned red like a beetroot.
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to The Story Basket to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.