The dusk crawls on the suburban town of Fairfield. The evening chill of February is starting to feel on his wrinkled hands.
Arjun sits on the park bench, watching over his grand-daughter playing on the swings nearby.
“Let us go now, Pooja” he paused, “It’s time to go home”. He speaks with a broken English accent. Over the years he has adapted to the foreign tongue, the only language his grand kids understand.
“Not yet Grandpa! Can you push my swing please – one more time,” says the little girl with big black eyes, as she struggle with the slow-down of the swing.
“We have to go now, Pooja; the sun is going down.”
“It’s still light. One more push grandpa, please!”
Her delay tactics continue; she winning the every round of the bargain to go home.
After a few more swings and a long bargaining, they finally walk off the park. She skips along the sidewalk; their long silhouettes dragging behind them.
“Mom said you are making us a big kite. When can we fly it?”
“Soon. As soon as the winter is over and spring arrives.”
“Cool!”
“Look at the beautiful sunset, beta!” he points to the sun on the far western horizon as they turn the corner, their two story bungalow within the sight now.
She casually looks at the sunset. Unimpressed, she skips along. Read the rest of this entry »
I talk to myself all the times, I always have. Bigger the dilemma, more I talk; this is also another way of my brainstorming and mulling over new ideas.
