A scene from one of my short stories

Source: Internet

The whole week of teaching the innocent kids in the school was done. Karma was out on his usual weekend outdoor pursuit, running after the butterflies and snapping their colour and joyous moments. Butterflies seemed like precious stones for a materialistic soul. He liked the chromatic combinations on their glistening wings rather than the living style. He captured several rich pictures that morning.

“They have the most mesmerizing wings,” he said to himself as he gazed and gazed.     

He could now hear a familiar Hindi song by some young girls in the distance. He listened to the lyrical description of the surroundings – the mountains, the streams and the trees. It was the soothing effect of their song that made Karma walk towards them.

When Karma approached, the girls stopped singing. Both lowered their heads and giggled. The girls were making a flower garland with wild marigold. The chilly morning breeze blew their silky hair in all directions. Karma swallowed, “Good morning girls.”

The two kept giggling. “What are these garlands for,” he continued, a little embarrassed though.

“For Dewali,” one of them uttered at last. 

After exchanging a few words, the conversation felt at ease. “What is meant by Dewali,” he posed a question.

“It is the festival of lights.”

“Why are you here early in the morning, Acho,” one of them inquired.

“I am taking picture of the butterflies.”

The girls giggled again. He explained how much he loved the colour and the waves of light. He switched on the old digital camera and played a short clip. A bluish green butterfly flapped its wings amongst the dying yellow flowers, sparkling in the morning sun like a turquoise…