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Longing

"Mummy ! Can you come here?" My five year old daughter, Sareeka was seeking my attention. My mind prompted me, "Just ignore her." The presentation I was working on was certainly important.
"Amma! Amma! Come fast. I just saw a hand in the sky." The repeated calling had happened the next second. Mummy to Amma, the change from English to vernacular suggested there was something that needed my attention.

I got up from the dining table and pushed the laptop to the centre so that it remained out of reach of the nimble fingers of my two year old son Pravin. I walked to the other room.

Pravin was happily rolling over the pillows. Sareeka was standing on the bed and leaning out of the window. She was gazing at a lone white fluffy cloud in the deep blue sky.

The moment she sensed my presence, she pointed at the distant cloud. Thereon said, " I saw a hand there. Daddy's plane is flying. He pushed open the window and just waved at me."

Sareeka's imagination was certainly running wild. Her longing for father stirred me. My moist eyes couldn't hold back the tear drop. It rolled down the right cheek.

Sareeka stood on toes. She, with her palm wiped off the tear. She casually said, "You sit with me. The plane will come out of the cloud. We both no! No! Call Pravin. All of us can watch it. Let's us call him."

I was torn between Sareeka's longing and insensitivity of my husband.  In spite of repeated attempts I had failed to bore some propriety that, "You need to be at home to be with kids, they need your company too." inside the head of Sameer, my husband.

For more of this kind of writing you may take a look at my creation in digital format - INDIAN FLAVOUR SHORT STORIES Part - 1/2/3 @
AMAZON /Books / e-books

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