The home coming
Murthy aunty looked very happy. I had noticed that she had been busy cooking for the past ten days and had prepared a lot of sweets. Uncle had got some new furnishing done and had got his second car repaired. The daily routine that both of them followed did not seem to change much, but there was palpable joy in the air. It was as if their lifeless house seemed to have life again. Those days as I would go on my morning walk, I watched aunty singing as she prepared the morning tea. I noticed uncle smiling as he was watering the potted plants in the garden.
I could understand the joy. We all were waiting for Shriya who was on her way back from US.
Shriya was the Murthys' daughter and was round my age. She had been my friend since childhood and we had practically grown up in each other's house.
"Tell me if you need something from here. I am so looking forward to seeing you all - especially Nishka.," she had said when she called. Nishka was my one year old daughter and Shriya was meeting Nishka for the first time.
The joy of meeting Shriya at the airport after her last visit two years back was inexplicable. We hugged each other and held each other's hands as we made our journey back home. Shriya looked pretty much the same. The first two days we ate and slept over at each other's places. We shared our life with each other. She had got pretty dresses for Nishka and creams and perfumes for me.
The next day we went over to few of the good Indian restaurants nearby and Shriya ate all her favourite indian delicacies to her heart's content.
Her vacation had just begun and I looked forward for more fun filled days with my dear friend. However I was in for a surprise.
"We are going to be back in Bangalore only on the last week of our vacation now, Veena," she told me on the third day at Bangalore . Knowing that she was in India for a four week vacation, I wondered what happened to the rest of the days. "Oh! We are going to Darjeeling with my parents and in-laws for a week. That way we will be able to have relaxed time together and we can see the Himalayas too," she said with a beautiful smile.
"Once we are back, we are planning to visit Mysore to visit a friend's marriage and going to Mumbai to see a new born child of a cousin. And then we need to go for our visa renewal to chennai. Also once we are back, we will be busy signing the documents for the new house that we have taken,"she said.
I smiled as I calculated. "Yes, that was 4 weeks complete,"I thought.
Life had become busy after all.
For the next few weeks, we got to meet Shriya only fleetingly between her visits. I got busy too. Office, child, and home took most of my time.
Shriya came back from her visits and left back to US.
It was raining heavily that early morning as I returned back after dropping Shriya at the airport. I sat watching the storm and the rain sipping a cup of hot tea on the porch of my house. I watched the beauty of lightening and thunder, I watched the downpour of heavy rains, I watched the swaying of trees and I watched the birds hiding themselves below the roofs of houses. I watched the people on the roads running around , trying to finish their tasks on hand and get home. After about an hour of heavy rain, there was silence. The roads were wet, the smell of wet mud wafted through the air. The trees looked clean and bright. And there was peace. But there was also the emptiness of a beautiful moment having passed by.
I could understand the joy. We all were waiting for Shriya who was on her way back from US.
Shriya was the Murthys' daughter and was round my age. She had been my friend since childhood and we had practically grown up in each other's house.
"Tell me if you need something from here. I am so looking forward to seeing you all - especially Nishka.," she had said when she called. Nishka was my one year old daughter and Shriya was meeting Nishka for the first time.
The joy of meeting Shriya at the airport after her last visit two years back was inexplicable. We hugged each other and held each other's hands as we made our journey back home. Shriya looked pretty much the same. The first two days we ate and slept over at each other's places. We shared our life with each other. She had got pretty dresses for Nishka and creams and perfumes for me.
The next day we went over to few of the good Indian restaurants nearby and Shriya ate all her favourite indian delicacies to her heart's content.
Her vacation had just begun and I looked forward for more fun filled days with my dear friend. However I was in for a surprise.
"We are going to be back in Bangalore only on the last week of our vacation now, Veena," she told me on the third day at Bangalore . Knowing that she was in India for a four week vacation, I wondered what happened to the rest of the days. "Oh! We are going to Darjeeling with my parents and in-laws for a week. That way we will be able to have relaxed time together and we can see the Himalayas too," she said with a beautiful smile.
"Once we are back, we are planning to visit Mysore to visit a friend's marriage and going to Mumbai to see a new born child of a cousin. And then we need to go for our visa renewal to chennai. Also once we are back, we will be busy signing the documents for the new house that we have taken,"she said.
I smiled as I calculated. "Yes, that was 4 weeks complete,"I thought.
Life had become busy after all.
For the next few weeks, we got to meet Shriya only fleetingly between her visits. I got busy too. Office, child, and home took most of my time.
Shriya came back from her visits and left back to US.
It was raining heavily that early morning as I returned back after dropping Shriya at the airport. I sat watching the storm and the rain sipping a cup of hot tea on the porch of my house. I watched the beauty of lightening and thunder, I watched the downpour of heavy rains, I watched the swaying of trees and I watched the birds hiding themselves below the roofs of houses. I watched the people on the roads running around , trying to finish their tasks on hand and get home. After about an hour of heavy rain, there was silence. The roads were wet, the smell of wet mud wafted through the air. The trees looked clean and bright. And there was peace. But there was also the emptiness of a beautiful moment having passed by.
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