Whatever It Means

Travelling to college is annoying especially with the construction of Metro Rail adding to the existing traffic congestion. You just can’t help but sit in a rick and stare at the world outside.

This is exactly what I was doing today morning, wasting nearly an hour stranded at one spot. The rickshaw wouldn’t budge an inch. There was nothing much to stare at either; except a little girl who probably had wandered from a nearby beggars’ hutment.

She wasn’t accompanied by anyone else but was unperturbed nonetheless. Hopping about, she discovered a rope that was tied to a low hanging branch of a tree. The rope was tied at both ends to the branch in order to make it an ingenious swing. The ten centimetres thick rope was reinforced by knots in certain weaker areas. But that didn’t dampen her spirits. She promptly sat, made herself comfortable and began swinging on the rope. She wore an ordinary black dress; it wasn’t tattered, neither was it new. It looked castoff but that didn’t bother her.

Her hands held the rope firmly enough so that she didn’t slip and gently enough so that the jute fibres didn’t poke her palms. Her smile widened as her speed increased – in direct proportion – as a mathematician would put it. She was alone, with no one around, her eyes weren’t looking for anyone either. She was totally on her own but made most of those moments. At least that’s what I could make out. I wish I could photograph and capture that moment so as to prove this to you.

I wanted to ask her name. But then, I just assumed it to be Life.