It was a long and narrow street, perhaps 2 meters wide. As I was biking back home on a fine spring evening, I saw a little girl of about 4 rushing towards me. Her hairs were carelessly tousled, hands spread wide, as she was zig-zagging across the street in an easy carefree joyous way that only four year olds are capable of. The sun was setting somewhere behind her and the low soft rays were refracting through the tossed hair, casting a dynamic halo.
With the spring flowers, the evening light and the dancing object, it made a pretty photographic moment. But poetry was far from my mind as I was keen on averting an impending collision. I stopped on the side of the street to let this dancing joy cross me. As she passed, she gave a very non-chalanct glance in my direction, and without pausing, mid-stride into her dance said one of the most remarkable things I have heard in recent times. It stunned me and made me smile. It gave me a new definition and a privileged glimpse into the universes we leave behind as we "grow".
She said : "Hallo, Daivik's papa".
No, I did'nt recognize her!
With the spring flowers, the evening light and the dancing object, it made a pretty photographic moment. But poetry was far from my mind as I was keen on averting an impending collision. I stopped on the side of the street to let this dancing joy cross me. As she passed, she gave a very non-chalanct glance in my direction, and without pausing, mid-stride into her dance said one of the most remarkable things I have heard in recent times. It stunned me and made me smile. It gave me a new definition and a privileged glimpse into the universes we leave behind as we "grow".
She said : "Hallo, Daivik's papa".
No, I did'nt recognize her!
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