The Little Girl Nyasa

The Little Cousin Nyasa

The nine year old orphaned cousin Nyasa has been under my supervision over the past two years. Every Sunday when we return from the temple, her eyes get locked on the tiger teddy bear as we cross the highway corner toy shop. She pretends to have overcome the grief of losing the parents. The ring on the toy plays tricks with her imagination, and she giggled with fond memory of the games played with her father. For the third straight week, she turned her face and wrapped a little hug around me while being sitted on my lap. She is the little parakeet living under the cage of cousins favour. Released, she will explode under the crow attack.

At seventeen years and almost twice her age, the onus on making her feel at home and not an abroad place is my responsibility. Knowing her answer in negation if she would like the teddy bear is one matter, and not asking her altogether is outright unfair and border line filthy. The way to win her heart is just the same as any innocent child's. 

"Baby, would you help me in preparing the carrot halwa?" I asked her. The glee on kids face when their favourite dish is put under the microwave appliance is the beauty that can not only be beholden, but baked, and relished too. Nyasa squished into me and I had seen her that secure with her mother four years ago. The kiss of the little kid with cutest philtrium made my day too.