Kamya gazed at the fumes which seemed to be taking the form of an abstract artwork. The artist in her always found inspiration in the mundane. The brain wave had swept her away into the tides of unbridled, cathartic imagination. Though blissfully submerged, she was brought back to the realms of reality soon enough. It was that sane, soothing voice which had made her almost jump up in exhilaration.
Dressed in an alluring red gown,
To rave it up, she let her hair down.
Serenity embossed on her face, she sat in repose;
Click, smile, click smile – she dazzled every pose.
Period Talk! One would think that a mother of a 4-year-old girl would not have much to share on this subject. I concur because I have still not reached that stage when a parent actually gets into the elucidation of the biological process and the other nitty-gritty of menstruation to the child.
But, should period talk start only once a child is nearing puberty?
The atmosphere was abuzz with the boisterous banter between them. They giggled. They crackled. They chortled. They rolled. She hurtled around the park tickling the other kids, while trying to escape their tickles.
It was love at first sound for both of them. Their guitar chords were in perfect harmony with each other, just the way their heart strings were in tune. His deft hands and her mellifluous voice. Her calm and his unrest. Magic it was!
Years later, she plodded down the staircase of their home with a bagful of memories. She broke down as she clutched the shoes he had left behind before submerging himself in the sea. His failures and her triumphs. Her joy and his resentment. Music had entwined two hearts. Music had drifted them apart.
~ Anupama Dalmia ~