Magic Moments

It is human nature to dwell in the past, worry about the future and forget all about the present. I still miss the days spent in Hyderabad. I miss the study schedules, eating out, street shopping, and the city tours. I miss the roads, the townships and the metros. But I clearly remember that I just wanted the days to pass quickly so that I could return home, while I was there. And today I miss the view from the terrace of the ladies hostel we stayed in, the floral decorations with chalk, colors and flowers, the flower market, the abundance of curd during lunch hours, the constant ‘amma’ recitals by our wardens and so much more. One of the highlights of the hostel life in Hyderabad at Sri Kamali was queuing up for tea, puri and dosa during breakfast time, and then hurrying to secure a chair the very next moment. And conversations and complaints flowed unhindered during these hours in many languages at once- the most prominent ones being Telugu, Kannada, Malayalam, Marathi and...

My sister had penned this, and I loved it! Read on.. ‘Ringa ringa roses..,’ the little girl sang fiddling with the rings, not bothered by the two men standing a little away. One of them threw the white flower that he was holding at the older man. ‘Pocket full of poses…,’ the girl continued the rhyme playing with the rings. The younger man took out a gun and pointed it at the old man’s forehead. ‘Haisha .. Huisha..’ His eyes looked merciless and firm while he got ready to shoot. ‘All fall..’ A gunshot. She let all the rings fall as the old man fell. ‘Down,’she finished. P.S:  This short story has its origin from the creative juices of my dear sister,  Samikshya Mishra . You can read more of her  stories  and beautiful  imaginations   here .