The Little Balloon

Oblivious to what lies ahead. It rolled and twirled here and there, basking in the rays of the rising sun that bathed the old paint coated walls of the verandah. At times it played with the shadows of the window grills, which along with every angular degree rise of the sun got elongated and tried to cross the threshold of the verandah to enter the room. The room was still cool, unaffected by the warm hustle bustle outside; just like the little balloon that wandered carefree. It bumped into the scurrying legs of the Mother and did not seem to get bothered much by it. But the Mother was. She frowned and complained about her grown up daughter still behaving like a kid and fancying upon the balloons at a 10 year old’s birthday party and bringing them home. The daughter, who was getting ready for office was in another room. She said, “well burst them if you want.” For a second, the mother looked at the little balloon that twirled happily on the floor. “Na thak!”, she signed.