Paper Boats
I t was a windy morning in the month of August, and like every other weekend, I was sitting in my balcony reading the Sunday Times. Taking a sip from my morning tea I looked outside, when suddenly a damp gust of wind blew past me and flipped the pages of my newspaper, and those of my memories. It had started to rain. While people inside houses hurriedly shut the windows, pedestrians ran in search of a shelter. The morning sky rumbled and had turned a dark shade of grey. Patches of rainwater had already welled up in the uneven lane. The streets were rapidly getting deserted, when out of nowhere a little slum-boy, despite the howling winds and heavy rain came running with his paper boat, like a speck of joy in a dull rainy day. As he sat down to sail his boat, in him I saw a little girl, who used to run out of her house after a heavy shower, and watch her boat sail through pools and puddles. Sweet old days of childhood! With a smile on his face and a twig in his hand, the little bo...