Stories For Thing

She smiled

on July 30, 2012

Other kids didn’t talk to him much. He didn’t talk to them either. What did a boy in the seventh standard have to talk about anyway? He loved that his parents gave him the freedom to be himself.  He was a boy who was alone, but never lonely. Besides, when the time came he could talk his way out of a tough situation with little difficulty.

He was quite excited about going to school this morning. Today was the first day his parents let him to cycle to school – all on his own. Though his school was less than ten minutes away, until that day, his father had always dropped him off in the car. As he cycled past his favourite shop, the one run by his downstairs neighbour, the traffic signal turned a bright shade of red. Now he’d always seen his father stop at the signal, even if it was late at night and their car was the only one on the road. So, he stopped too.

Less than a minute had passed, when a little girl in a grubby, patched up brown dress, her palm outstretched walked up to him. He smiled at her, not knowing what she wanted.  The signal turned green, everybody started moving, but the little girl wouldn’t stop looking at him. He couldn’t move either. He got off his cycle and started pushing it towards school. But before he had moved more than two steps, the signal turned red again. The little girl was back too, her palm outstretched, hesitant.

“What happened?”, he asked her. She didn’t say anything. She looked at him, saw his red school bag, touched it with her left hand, touched her own back with the right hand, smiled and walked away to the lady in the scooter behind him.

He saw the lady in the scooter smile at the little girl. The signal had turned green, he started cycling to school. When he got home that evening, he ran to his mother and told her everything he saw on his first day of cycling to school. The downstairs neighbour’s shop, the red signal, the little girl, the blue lorry on the way back and the same car as daddy’s near his school. When he told mother about what the little girl did, “Why don’t you ask her?” she said.  After dinner that night, he went to bed thinking about the little girl, why she touched his bag, why she smiled her secret smile that had no words, and he made up his mind to do exactly as his mother suggested.

She woke up that day at the same time she did everyday. She wore her usual brown dress, now patched in two more places and went to the building her mother went to work in every morning. She didn’t have much to do ever since she stopped going to school two years ago. Every morning, she woke up at the same time and went to where her mother worked. Over time she had made friends with other children there. Now, everyday she and her friends would go play until it was time to go home.

Today, as she stood outside the building, she took a quick peek inside. There was her tired, weary mother stitching. She worked so hard, her mother. Her friends weren’t there yet. What do I do, she wondered. She took another quick look at her mother and bravely decided to go for a walk on her own. She turned and started walking towards the busy main road. As she reached the signal, she saw a boy cycling towards her. He was smiling a lot. When the signal turned red, everybody, including the smiling boy on the cycle, stopped. She walked up to him.

“What happened?” he asked her. She looked at him, saw the red bag on his back and smiled. It was the same sort of bag her mother was busy stitching.

By LedLorryBruLorry


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