Book - 2
Lord Shiva says,
Purest form of love can't be expressed with words. It is the embodiment of the devotion within a lover's heart.
Abhimanyu Acharya,
Reserved, responsible and creative. Yearns to respect others and the relationships that god...
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(Age 7)
I look at the outstretched hand in front of me and can't help but take it into mine. As soon as I touched her hands I felt myself fill with light.
With happiness. With hope. With some butterflies that fluttered in my belly.
"Hi... I am Abhimanyu." I speak softly with an almost hushed tone scared that I might scare her away but instead I am filled with surprise when she pressing my hands softly in acknowledgement.
"Nice to meet you Abhi." She says and then turns around towards her room and then makes a gesture with her hands and tilts her body slightly as if letting path in for a prince.
"Please come inside." She says giggling softly while her eyes twinkled. They resembled the stars.
Bright and shining with glee. Bright and optimistic.
And in her eyes I saw the reflection of myself that I hadn't lost last night. I felt comfort. And even though I didn't really find talking new people easy. She seemed warm. So, serene.
I nodded my head without replying with words and walked inside the room. It was filled with toys, picture collages, photo frames, a huge section of the room was filled with stories. Almost every Disney story stacked on one wall and the other wall was filled with marvel figurines and the next was filled with medals and trophies.
I keep observing the room keenly. It was huge. In the corner there was a play area filled with blocks and in the middle of the room was a pink castle which was open in between filled with cushions and feathers.
"Oh! This is not just my room. I share it with my Bhai. That's why there is so much div... diver... What was that word?" She looked confused while trying to figure out the word she wanted to use.
"Diversity." I remind her while a small smile made it's way to my face.
Her face changes from happiness and smiles to curiosity so fast. She rushes to my side and looks into my face as if I had something written all over my face.
"How did you know that word? It is so hard! I keep forgetting." She says and looks at me. Her eyes filled with determination to know the trick to remember hard words.
"I like reading... and writing." I say with uncertainty. Almost unsure that she might laugh at me. Most people do when they hear that I write. They ask me to show them what a seven year old can even write.
I admit that I don't write something great. But I do think that my IQ in literature is higher than many kids of my age. And right now my writing is more of me trying to escape my papa's constant punishments and taunts.
"Can you read for me? After we draw?" She asks without questioning me about anything else and all I can feel is confusion.
"Yes?" I reply still unsure whether I should do it or not.
