Childhood

I distinctively remember a small chubby fair girl in sleeveless knee length frock running down the terrain at the back of her house when aurora came kissing the trees and nests of the birds awakening them to sing their welcome song to Apollo. The girl ran as if she had an urgent errant, but only to stop under the tamarind tree and take her first glimpse of the tiny pool after the previous night’s rain. If it was muddy like the strong morning tea, she would hasten back, a big disappointment writ large on her face. If it was sapphire green she would go dancing down the slope slithering and scraping her thighs in her hurry to reach the pool. She would drink the pool with her eyes and look beyond the paddy fields bathed in morning mist. Somewhere on the distant bank lived her friend .She had seen him making his way to her neighbour’s house to buy milk. He was a very good looking rolly polly boy. He never dared to look at her teasing eyes that followed him lovingly. They never spoke. But there was love in her young heart.