Most of our childhood is stored not in photos, but in certain biscuits, lights of day, smells, textures of carpet.
                                          -Alain De Botton

Coming back home after school, in the scorching heat of the sun, each of them sat with their families, them talking about the smallest of the things that happened in school and their families listened to these little dumplings silently and smiling.

After the hectic days of school, and the heavy weight of bags, they were eager to come back home just to 'play'. For the sake of playing, they looked forward to the end of school hours.

It seems so ridiculous if we as grownups look at this recreational activity, but for some, it was the only time together. The only time where they could bond, they could laugh freely.

A particular time when they could do whatever they want and didn't worry about anything else.

It was 5 pm already, leaving their books aside, they took permission from their parents and went outside.

Holding hands with each other, they were cheerfully walking behind their grandmother. She scolded them to walk silently and carefully or they'll get hurt. Her words were rough but her feeling wasn't.

Her words made the children walk quietly for a while until they saw an elder lady shrieking because of a stray dog. They giggled once again, but very silently.

Their grandmother again raised her voice to scold them, but the scene unfolding in front of them was highly amusing to them.

They didn't seem to mind their grandmother's words and also they couldn't see the face of their grandmother while walking but listening to their soft giggles even the grandmother had to drop her scolding and she internally smiled.

The walk towards the public garden was just a short walk. For the rest of the world, things like that would've been silent, not really exciting, but for them, it was something eventful.

They used to find something in every nothing.

Playing in the garden was the best part of the day. Mother nature also looked at them lovingly. Every segment of grass, every leaf, every flower, and every gust of wind used to show that love on her behalf.

Their sense of freedom was the epitome during that time. The youngest one would bring something deep down from the bushes and will present that item to the other two like it's the most precious and valuable thing in the world. Something they should just see from afar and not touch it.

Somedays they would make houses from mud, someday they would cook something imaginary. One day they would make big leaves of palm trees their swords and fight an already decided battle.

There were four big elevated pavilions at the corner of the garden. Built-in the Mughal style, the staircase leading to that pavilion made the two girls feel like princesses. At times, they used to dance in silence there. There was no music. But, only the chirping of birds, and the rustling of trees' leaves.

They plucked those little wildflowers and put them on each other's heads, like the little girls they were. Some flowers fell down, but they didn't mind it.

The only thing on focus was that they put the flowers, they have flowers on their head and they were feeling like real princesses. These activities were their daily doings. And every day their grandmother kept watching them from afar, with a distant look in her eyes.

They found happiness in everything, but,

Was their happiness and sense of bonding go for a long time? Did destiny and circumstances let them stay like they were
                                                                                         ***