The Girl in Red

 The girl in red

A dancing baby girl in the glimmering sunlight – right beside that transparent glass – causing rainbows of affection and joy – touching that hidden happy spirit inside... the girl has a beautiful smile – she wants to play, wants attention. All dressed in red, she yells bold and beauty and yet she is shy – making her a perfect potential lady.

Her mother sits beside , her back turned to the world – lost in her own world. But she has no such premise. the girl wants the world to look at her. It is in that wide world – that she wants to reside.  Round and round she whirls around , round rotates those beams of light. The music in background alters with her turns. So does those moods in mind.

What lies in the innocence of childhood, what lies in those rhymes of times, that a vision of beauty gives immense pleasure.  A suuden meet gives one delight. And now the girl cries for fun .she wants her mother’s sight. She asks her to accompany her. It is with her she wants to go outside.

Her mother seems disappointed with the expectation. It is in her own world that she wants any sight. She is tired of all hard work and explorations. It is now rest that her waried - spirit  desired.  But the girl doesn’t understand all this. She doesn’t want this chance to be missed. On and on she cries and finally her mother gives her a kiss. She carries her in her lap and takes her to the table beside. There she makes her wear her shoes. And there they went together – outside.

Its a pleasure to see them in glimmering sunlight – walking hand – in hand – so bright. The mother seems younger suddenly. And their youth together is a rare sight. The girl has got what she desired . she is happy beyond all plights. the elder one has received a jolt – out from that journey of time. And here in this moment – they are happy – beside. Who knows what comes next.  it is in very now that there is none to chide. And they play in the ambers – of happiness and illusion. The girl with her pillar. And mother in her dynamic fusions. Nostalgia has no place – its the beginning of a history. When years later that mother would miss. And that daughter would replace she.

Mystical Wanderer