Last year, after my rather unsuccessful stint at my end-semester examinations, I was expectantly waiting to flee homewards — away from college, an un-homely mess food and away from the horror of reading through those pillow-sized monsters before exams.
Life was a merry ride for the first week when I was in home doing those three essential things — eating, sleeping and enjoying. This one-week break was supposed to charge me up for the six-week-long industrial internship that I was supposed to do. To make things worse, I didn’t like the project I was asked to do.
The days were monotonous. I went to office by buses which had foot counts more than twice the head counts (some people had to stick out their heads due to lack of space to accommodate their entire bodies). Back home, I would enter with a sulk that I continued with from the bus which spewed me out at my stop. I would rant and rave about my plight, while my mom lent a patient ear and cooled me down with a milk shake.
One day, I was quite moody after work due to a bitter remark that involved my name. Even some of those regular bus-friends who gave me a slight acknowledgement ignored me. And so, I tried to focus my glare on the floor of the bus. Just then, a three-year old girl nearby smiled at me, proudly showing off her new doll to me. My frown fled and I broke into a smile at the innocence of the child, her honest eyes and ready smile. Her smile did the magic I was trying to conjure up for the past one hour through unsuccessful self-consolation. That day, I entered home with a smile. I asked mom about her day and shared about the good things that happened to me in office besides that one bad remark. I was sure I would have infected my mom with that much-needed happiness through my big smile!
