Little Stories – 1

January 8, 2017


She opened her eyes by an inch.

The lukewarm sunlight of the early morning was tickling her brown sun-burnt skin. It was still dewy and misty and nippy; just like every winter morning. She heard the chirping of the birds that were leaving their nests for another day’s hard work. She heard the jingles of the bells of bicycles and the clangs of the bell of the temple. She heard the distant vroom of an early car.

In her vicinity, she heard footsteps and chatter. Her mother seemed to be doing a lot of the talking. The delicious smell of the fresh flowers came wafting near her. The roses, the mogras, the lilies and the kanakambaras were all laid out neatly in front of her mother. Her mother’s dexterous fingers were threading the loose flowers into attractive garlands. Mother said that her creations adorned the Lord and his Consort every day.

She knew in an instant. It was business as usual for her mother.

She debated for a minute whether she really wanted to get up or not. Not, she decided. She turned her face away from the road and slept on her mother’s lap for a little while more. The chirping, the bells and the sounds of vehicles; the different people who came to the temple and her mother; the delicious fragrances; they all had to wait for some more time.



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