'Such a mist-filled dew-laden morn...'

Paromita thought as she went out. 

She had lots to do today. The interior design assignment was to be fed into the computer. She had meticulously drawn every detail of the office space, how the lobby would look, where the silver pots with indoor plants would be placed, which paintings and pictures would be hung on which walls, how would the cubicles be arranged. Only she had not found a suitable art work that was to be purportedly displayed at centre of the lobby. It had to be something extraordinarily beautiful yet not very much startling, something subtle yet conspicuous.

'A hard find...'

Paromita thought.

Near the triangular traffic crossing, where the car stopped at the signal, she noticed school children waiting for their bus. They were dressed in pullovers of different colours – red, pink, yellow, orange, violet – which made them look like a bunch of blossoms, vibrant and stark in the mist.

The digital clock at the signal showed thirty seconds more for the light to turn green.

Thirty seconds seemed really long.

Paromita had to reach office as quickly as she could. The client would be there soon. 

And the art work at the lobby would have to be finalised, drawn and put into the software-aided design.

But this traffic signal stop.

Twenty-five seconds still to go.

A vivid waiting.

Paromita peered out a little. The air had moisture. It was dewy.

The hydrant near the bus stop was spraying water.

The bunch of school children were giggling. They were waving at the passing vehicles. The standing vehicles, like Paromita's, were also getting their attention. Free and uninhibited as they were like a fresh morning.

A known tune of Rabindrasangeet was being played at the signal stop.

Suddenly Paromita remembered she had never tried shooting any photo using her newly acquired smartphone. She bought it recently only going by its manufacturer's advert claiming high resolution camera and superior lens.

She brought out the phone.

The signal would keep her and others waiting for another ten seconds, probably.

Paromita focussed on the bus stop. Some of the children were hopping, some were hanging from the iron railings.

A happy bunch of blossoms almost.

A misty dewy morn.

A month of love.

Paromita took the snap.

She thought she would install a bus stop, school children, blooming trees, water jet and railings at the centre of the lobby. 

It wouldn't be out of place.

After all life at a lobby is always a 'waiting for something,' and is there any better waiting than waiting for the school bus or the waiting of the blossoms for their turn of perfect blooming?


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Moinak Dutta

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