Musing · Relationships · Writing

A Life Full Of Colour

Every day on her way to school, Asha walked past the slum and invariably encountered the little boy. That little boy, of about 8-10 years, with sad brown eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Every morning she found him right there. Sitting on the floor, leaning on the wall of his ramshackle shanty, staring blankly into space. She didn’t know what drew her to him or why he reminded her of herself. All she knew was that he was terribly poor and terribly sad. She often caught herself thinking, ‘he’s only a small child. I wish I was rich and had lots of money so I could do something for him.’
Holi was just around the corner. An indicator of the advent of spring, the season of new hope. Hope, that’s what her name meant too. Maybe that’s why she’d always had a mental connection with this festival of colours!
It was Thursday, the day before Holi. Asha was on her way back from the market after making a huge purchase of water pistols and gulaal. She was eagerly awaiting the family reunion and Holi celebration. That’s when she saw him again. The little boy.
She was about to look away and walk off as usual only to drown herself in guilt later. Without a substantial amount of money she couldn’t possibly do a thing for him, could she? She didn’t have that kind of money. Barely had she taken another step, when she felt drops of water fall on her face. It had started drizzling and with the first shower of the year, Asha felt a strange feeling. A sense of liberation and courage. It was as thought the Heavens had opened up to give her a sign. She immediately opened up a pack of colours, beckoned to the boy and offered it to him. He hesitated and then stepped forward. She applied a little colour to her own face and smiled. He did the same and smiled too. That was the first time she saw a glimmer in those vacant eyes. A tiny troop of children from the slum joined in their mini celebration. They laughed and enjoyed the colours and the rain.
Much to her mother’s astonishment, Asha returned home drenched and colored but with a spring in her step and smile on her face. She’d realized you don’t need to be rich to add a dash of colour to someone’s life. Nor do you need to be wealthy to feel content. All you need is a willing heart and smile to live a life full of colour.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.


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