After the usual humdrum of a workday that couldn’t have been more adventurous without a tussle that accompanied the hustle, she set out on a stroll at dusk — the time of the day she always looked forward to.
Enveloped by dense trees, the branches of which resembled the tentacles of an octopus, the place was an abode to several thousand avian members — big and small — just enough to transform the peace to chaos as they flocked back at dusk.
She walked lazily as the gentle summer breeze teased her hair. Scores of avian members — contented, fatigued, delighted, dejected — chattered about the day gone by as she revisited the tumultuous events of the day, and amidst that cacophony, she tried to make peace with the barrage of emotions within.
She watched as the 7–10 year old boys immersed themselves in the game of cricket. Each time the ball was thrown at him, with his undivided attention, the batsman made an attempt to hit back gracefully — something she thought was worth imitating in the game called Life.
She continued the stroll as toddlers took to the swings gleefully, women on the bench spoke in hushed voices, and drenched in sweat and oblivious to his surrounding, a young man walked past her briskly.
She was stunned when the cricket ball grazed her arm and landed at her feet. Phew! She was spared!
Rubbing her arm, she squatted on her knees, picked up the ball, and tossed it at the boys. With a swift movement, one of them caught the ball, and cried — Thank you, aunty!!!
The birds chirped in unison as if to mock her!
