a vignette

I was waiting in front of chakki’s school, to pick her up after an extra class. Now that exams are near and portions are not complete, teachers are racing to finish. Rush in front of the school is over. Few kids were waiting for their parents who may be late. It is getting to evening and it is calm everywhere.

I see a small fussy kid coming out, she is so small that she doesn’t even reach to her father’s knees. She seems to be I was waiting in front of chakki’s school, to pick her up after an extra class. Now that exams are near and portions are not complete, teachers are racing to finish. Rush in front of the school is over. Few kids were waiting for their parents who may be late. It is getting to evening and it is calm everywhere. 

I see a small fussy kid coming out, she is so small that she doesn’t even reach to her father’s knees. She seems to be complaining about stomach pain, her father bends down and pokes her stomach to check where it is paining. He has her bag slung over one shoulder and a lunch box in the other hand. He picks her up, walks not more than ten steps to their scooter and lands her on the front foot rest. She wanted to be picked up for just those ten steps. She is chatting away. He is tall, gaunt, grey hairs in his beard, silent but listening to everything she says, nods while going through their routine of preparing for the trip. He takes off her hair bow, puts her helmet on, packs her lunch bag into the storage under the seat, the seat cover does not click back when he tries to close, has to bang it a couple of times, clips her school bag in the front and stands her up in the front. As they pulled out the scooter, she was gesturing and continuing her tale. 

I miss the stories and those days. 

 about stomach pain, her father bends down and pokes her stomach to check where it is paining. He has her bag slung over one shoulder and a lunch box in the other hand. He picks her up, walks not more than ten steps to their scooter and lands her on the front foot rest. She wanted to be picked up for just those ten steps. She is chatting away. He is tall, gaunt, grey hairs in his beard, silent but listening to everything she says, nods while going through their routine of preparing for the trip. He takes off her hair bow, puts her helmet on, packs her lunch bag into the storage under the seat, the seat cover does not click back when he tries to close, has to bang it a couple of times, clips her school bag in the front and stands her up in the front. As they pulled out the scooter, she was gesturing and continuing her tale.

I miss the stories and those days.