The vivid reds in wedding symbols of celebration , Happiness and Joy . But what will happen if the same red colour change into the colour of blood betrayal and the symphony of despair.
Meera sweet little innocent girl end up being the pawn in the d...
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It's been a week since Ira returned home, and though she's here with me, her usual spark is dimmed. I watch her from the kitchen, her tiny form curled up on the couch, hugging a stuffed bunny to her chest. Her eyes, usually so full of mischief and light, seem dull, and it breaks my heart.
I wipe my hands on the kitchen towel and walk over to her. "Ira?" I sit down beside her, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
She doesn't look up. "Hmm?" "What's wrong, mera bacha?" I ask gently, placing a hand on her knee. She sighs, looking up at me with her big, doe-like eyes. "I can't go out and play, Mumma. All my friends are playing outside, and I'm stuck here. It's boring!"
I try to muster up some enthusiasm. "But we've been doing so many fun things at home, right? Like painting, baking, and watching movies together."
"It's not the same," she mumbles, burying her face in the bunny.
I feel a pang of helplessness. It's not like I can take her out right now; she needs to rest and recover fully. But seeing her this way—so listless and sad—is unbearable. I need to find a way to cheer her up, to bring back her giggles and endless chatter.
An idea begins to form in my mind, and I sit up and head to my room to make a few calls.
The first person I call is Sanvi. She picks up after the second ring, her voice warm but surprised. "Meera? This is unexpected. What are you doing?"
I explain the situation briefly, and Sanvi immediately offers to help. "Ira's sad? Not on my watch! I'll be there in an hour."
Next, I dial Ayaansh. Predictably, he's less cooperative. That person has been busy with office lately I'm telling you this Khadoos kumar na doesn't let anyone live but thankfully he agreed saying "Fine, fine! You're evil, you know that but you shouldalso that I love my niecemore so gor her I'm doing this so don't get wrong ideas that I'm doing this for you?" he grumbles before hanging up. He sure a drama king.
Finally, I call Riya, who's more than happy to join. "Anything for my favorite little munchkin!" she says cheerfully.
******
The dining room was unusually quiet today. Ira sat on her little chair, poking at her plate of food with her fork, her mood mirroring the cloudy weather outside. My little sunshine, usually so chirpy, had been gloomy for a couple of days. I had tried everything to cheer her up—drawing, baking, even letting her style my hair (a disaster I don't want to revisit). Nothing seemed to work.
"Mumma," Ira sighed dramatically, resting her chin on her palm, "why can't we have any fun?"
I looked at her, my heart melting at her innocent frustration. "Who said we can't have fun?"
After dinner, suddenlythe lights in the room dimmed, leaving Ira confused. She squinted at me in the flickering candlelight.
