Gayatri’s discovery

That afternoon last, was the most blessed one probably I had’
Gayatri thought as she started ironing the school uniform of her daughter Ahona.
Ahona would go out at nine. She checked her school bag.
‘Have you taken your exercise books? The class work copies? That Enid Blyton which you borrowed from your friend?’
Gayatri asked.
Ahona nodded.

Kaushik was checking a script.
‘Ahona, have you seen my glasses?’
Kaushik asked.
‘You have put them on the bedside table’
Gayatri replied.
‘O yes…’
Kaushik went to fetch them.
The script of the story is to be checked.
Often while typing he loses a comma, or an exclamation or an apostrophe.

Gayatri was humming a song.
She was thinking of the afternoon last.
The cool breeze was sweeping the street then.
She was returning from office.
The sun was drawing a supranormal sketch on the sky.
She found herself immersed fully into the beauty of that moment.
She forgot to take the change from the vegetable man when she bought those vegetables.

‘Mom, where’s my pencil box?’

Gayatri was brought back to the reality.
‘Gosh, am I drifting?’
She thought.

Kaushik had started works with the script it seemed.
A song was being played at his music system.

An instrumental piece.
A piano.
Gayatri knew it.
Richard Clayderman.

The pool car had arrived.
Gayatri took Ahona to the car.
The children were chirping there inside the car like a flock of birds.

‘Have you memorised the poem aunty asked?’
‘I did…should I recite?’
‘I have got a new Percy Jackson!’
‘What is it?’
‘That Greek heroes…’
‘Oh! Would you lend that to me?’
‘Yes! Why not?’

The children were chirping.

Gayatri thought that the morning was just the continuation of the afternoon last.

Kaushik was writing something on his clipboard.

Gayatri looked at him and felt blessed.
‘A work centric man… How come he got so many words in him? How come he keeps on typing and writing and pouring?
All the time writing?
Where from he gets that energy?’

Gayatri had seen him for years.
He had remained that.

Then she thought of the scene of the last afternoon.
Her being fully immersed into the beauty of an afternoon of spring.
Her waking up today and being into the same kind of feeling.

‘It must be Love…’
Gayatri thought.
She started preparing the breakfast.
She started humming a song.

A song that had those words which narrates the story of finding Love as worship.
A kind of devotion.

‘Love, if it is there, it comes pouring, in forms of words, in form of a song, in form of an afternoon painting a sky…’

She thought.

‘Its a wonderful world…’
She heard Kaushik singing from his study.
A song.

Washington’s ?
Gayatri tried to recollect the name of the singer.

‘He must have completed checking the script…’
Gayatri smiled.

She thought of singing out aloud.
A song of Tagore.
Of finding Love as worship.

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