The day I lost my id card.

The day I lost my id card was the day I was playing cricket in the room with my room mates. A plastic ball, a chair as the makeshift stumps and a log as bat. I was savouring every moment of it. Making loud noises on getting someone out, some grunts of frustration of close calls and a puffed chest on every shot well played. And within half-an-hours of play my achievement was a cracked window, broken pen stand and a lump on my friend's forehead. All seemed to be going my way till there was a knock on the door. Play was interrupted and the knock was attended to. And standing on the thresh-hold was a small kid, almost in rags. He was sweating profusely like we were, though for a different reason. He had just carried a 40 liter water canister up the flight of stairs to the second floor. Not to mention the blistering heat. Whosoever had the heart to let the boy with such burden? He just looked straight in my eye and asked me in which room I want the canister kept. Did he not realise that he's being exploited under some clause and section of some act and he's protected under the same? Probably he didn't care. Well what I did on my part was feel sorry, told him I'll carry it myself the rest of the distance, gave him 10 bucks and wrote this piece.