It was a foggy path in the joggers’ park. I was stretching
out and easing up before I could jog. In a corner a group of elderly people
were tightening their skin by laughter therapy. Just ahead of me were two
middle aged ladies, on with their daily gossips. Far to my left I could hear a sweet
cooing coming from some cuckoo, probably sitting on a tree top.
The fog was thick and smelled great. I was enjoying every
bit of it. Only the next 5-6-meter path beyond me was visible. I started
heading towards the ladies and soon overtook them. On my way I saw a little
girl sitting on a bench, looking straight in void. Her cheeks were chubby and
eyes deep. There was tranquility in her sight. I stopped by and parked myself
on a bench across.
She looked at me suddenly, as if woken up from a dream. She
looked chubbier with some life on her face. Blinking twice, she threw her sight
far into the fog, lost again. Then again she came back from her reverie and
peeked towards me from the corner of her eyes. Her pink-colored frock with
white socks made her look adorable.
I smiled looking at her innocent mime. She blinked again and
got off her bench. With an undecided gait, she moved towards me. I gave her a
welcoming smile and offered her to sit by my side. She sat hesitatingly and
looked at me with a pink face. I asked who she had come there with. She said she
is the daughter of the gardener there. She used to come to the park everyday
with her dad. But she lost her dad recently. She had come there all alone.
Out of grief and curiosity I asked what happened to her dad.
She said, ‘My dadda was my best friend. I used to play around the park with my
dad. I would keep hiding behind the thickest tree trunks and my dadda would
magically appear from nowhere. I would shout and scream like mad and we would play
around for hours. One day while my dadda was trimming the fence, he felt a
sudden jerk of pain in his chest. He shouted for me. By the time I reached, he
was laying down unconscious. I shouted out for help and the passers by took him
to the hospital where the doctors said, he had cancer. He was in the hospital
for a while and then left me behind, forever..’ By the end of this sentence,
she choked and her eyes filled with tears. I felt tight from within.
I consoled her and tried to cheer her up. She was finding it
hard to come back to a peaceful mode. She further explained her tragedy. I gave
her my ears to lighten her mood. She said, ‘I have no mother. He was my
everything. He was my hero. Despite our poverty, he never ever let me feel any
less than a princess. Yes, I was his princess… The princess has lost her hero! ’,
with these words, her voice got rough and she got filled with big tears and sorrow
again.
‘Do you smoke?’, she asked after a good pause. I shook my
head in denial. “Then can we be friends? ‘cos I have promised I shall never be friends to a
smoker, as the smokers leave me all alone”. And her already swollen eyes filled
with tears again. I said, ‘Was your dadda into smoking?’ She burst into an even
louder cry.
I understood and refrained from talking about it again. I
gave her a much needed hug. She was a real sweet heart filled with purity and
innocence. Her dadda, or our hero must have been a great soul that gave such a
beautiful princess as my friend. The only mistake he committed was, he had got
into a bad habit without the thought of its ill effect that indirectly was also
a curse to his pretty daughter.
This is in fact true for all our deeds. Anything good or bad
we do has a sure impact to our kith and kin. Our little princess is left all
alone in this world. I pray for her wellness and a less miserable life. She has
lost her sweet yesterday in the foggy path. The thick tree trunks have
witnessed her jingling giggles and laughter. I pray for her painless tomorrow and for a
real sweet laughter all her innocent life.
