They played as if tomorrow will not be another day..their small hands grasping onto the leaves filling up the air throwing the leaves in all directions...it was a sight to watch..two little daughters playing and their father having eternal bliss capturing the moments..
It took me back years behind the memory lane..a new Hindi movie had hit the screen...the actors wore a pathani suit and danced a few numbers..the movie's name although immaterial was "Qurbani" meaning sacrifice..
I remember being the only child of my parents then my brother still a dream to yet come true...My dad to whom I was one of the greatest toys time gave him specially made a pathani suit for himself and me. Mine was yellow his beige..
I still relive the day we played our Long Playing Player and danced like two crazy kids with the number...one of our neighbour teased my dad for doing so..
Those were days I am very grateful too..still in my heart I dance with my dad..he makes me believe in the child that survives all odd and lives in us.
That day in the midst of all the people the perfectly yellow maple tree and the two daughters playing with fallen leaves and begging for more time from their dad and he enjoying every waking moment of it reminded me...man can make countries,have war, kill people,rape mayhem and steal from human all that only a man can earn in his life time but what no one can steal are these stolen moments that lasts for ever and makes us beyond us beyond flesh and blood..and like a album we visit them ,smell them taste them and wonder isn't passage of time relative?Nothing has been lost..
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