Sundays are boring at some times. Especially, when there’s no great movie to watch. When there’s no good company. When there’s no place remaining to hang around. When simply, you are not in a good mood for no reason. It was that kind of Sunday.
Me and Deepali were roaming on the streets aimlessly and finally settled down in a public garden. It was before Abeer’s birth. We used to visit the gardens, then, quite often. We used to observe the kids, playing with their parents on the slides, jumping on the lawns or playing hide and seek around the bushes.
The garden was full house as it was a Sunday evening. Most of them were families. Some group of young boys and girls chatting and laughing loudly. Few couples found the shelter to hide from the world around. Some senior citizens were chatting. Some health conscious people jogged with the earphones on. The hawkers were selling anything and everything that a person can consume in a garden. From roasted groundnuts to sukhi bhel to chai to idlis to wadas to papers to garlands of flowers. There were beggars and hijras too.
We both were chatting and munching on the nicely roasted groundnuts. Suddenly, a light and soft thing bumped on my head and then on my pats. I looked down to find it a big red balloon followed by the owner – a sweet little girl of around 5. The colour and curves of the balloon were competing with her chubby chicks. The urge of getting that balloon back was the only thing in her eyes. I gave her balloon back. Her impeccable smile only could explain her joy. She jumped with joy and went back to her parents – a young couple like us. Her father was talking on a cell phone and her mother’s eyes were guarding the sweet little daughter. There was an expression of ‘thank you’ in the mother’s eye. The father hardly knew about the balloon.
With an obvious curiosity our eyes followed the cutie pie and her balloon. All her attention was that round red thing. She was tossing it in the air and was trying to catch it with her tiny little hands. She used to be succeeded in few attempts and then her joy used to be doubled. Then suddenly, something caught my eyes in the background. There were two sisters watching this game of that girl with great interest. The younger one’s eyes were rolling up and down with the ball while the elder one was watching the girl and her parents. Both the sisters were almost of the similar age of the girl was.
But they were different than that of our little girl who was playing with the balloon. They were not with their parents. They were playing with their entangled dirty hair. The torn frocks were tucking on their skinny bodies. They hardly knew that one has to wipe with a tissue paper off the fluid flowing from the nose. They were not wearing any footwears. The only common thing between them and the little girl was innocence. Pure innocence. And their aim was same – the balloon.
The girl again tossed it in the air and then came a breeze. The light balloon rode on the breeze and swung for a while. All three girls chased it. Finally, it settled on a row of thick bushes behind the fencing. Suddenly the chase for the balloon stopped then and there. There was a funny mixture of a big question mark and tears in the girl’s eyes. The place was not far away from the bench on which her parents were seated. She looked at her parents for help. Her father still didn’t finish his phone call. Her mother seemed to be helpless. She pulled the sleeve of her husband to draw his attention. He had lot of big things to do while sitting in the park. He simply ignored it and made big eyes at his wife for disturbing in the middle of his phone talk. The helpless mother tried to console her daughter.
The two sisters were watching all this. Now, they knew that the girl does not own the balloon anymore. They were happy. Being familiar to the park inside out they penetrated through the barb wires and reached to the bushes and finally the balloon and returned with the same ease in moments.
The younger one was holding the balloon with great care. It was her dream. She earned it. She was going to play it. There were so many aspirations bulging out from her eyes. The poor former owner of the balloon was watching her favourite thing going away from her.
But what we witnessed next was an eye opener. The thousands of pages of literature or hundreds of movies or even hours of preaching could not have achieved this. We learned it in a few moments.
The two beggar sisters went to the little girl and handed over the balloon with the same innocent smiles.
woww
ReplyDeleteseams to a nice Short film story
But that types of incident It happened a day by day in Every Park in india
can we do nothing to stop those kind of views of Father/Mother & others........?
hi,
ReplyDeletei agree wid u about such incidents happening all over the world. but nobody controls nobody's mind. this is an effort to touch the sensitivity. you never know one might change his or her heart. Let's keep the hopes alive.
A kind act thoughtfully enacted with tact.
ReplyDeleteOnce when I was a teenager, my father and I were standing in line to buy tickets for the circus. Finally, there was only one family between us and the ticket counter.
This family made a big impression on me. There were eight children, all probably under the age of 12. You could tell they didn't have a lot of money. Their clothes were not expensive, but they were clean.
The children were well-behaved, all of them standing in line, two-by- two behind their parents, holding hands. They were excitedly jabbering about the clowns, elephants and other acts they would see that night. One could sense they had never been to the circus before. It promised to be a highlight of their young lives.The father and mother were at the head of the pack standing proud as could be. The mother was holding her husband's hand, looking up at him as if to say, "You're my knight in shining armor." He was smiling and basking in pride, looking at her as if to reply, "You got that right."