Eyes opened to the breeze of the spring. The head slowly lifted up the table. Hands raised to rub off the remainanent of the temporary sleep which was now in the past.

The mountain remained partially coloured. The source of colour was nowhere to be seen. The eyes dived into the box of crayons. All crayons displayed proof of usage, but where was the crayon of that colour?

The chair pushed back as the head tilted downwards for the eyes to have a view of what was below. There it was ‘the crayon’, but a part of it.

Apparently the crayon had rolled down to escape the table and both ends decided to unsuccessfully head for the opposite direction as soon as they touched the floor. Well they didn’t make it far. The other part was near the door.

The small presence lifted off the chair, and bent at two places picking up the two parts. Back into the box they went.

Colouring the rest of the mountain would perhaps require a fresh push of motivation, a task for another time.

Out of the room the two legs ran. They stopped near the shoe rack. The feet slipped out of the slippers and entered the slip-on shoes.

It was time to head out after informing a busy mother, who was about to end her day’s work on the laptop.

Down the stairs and down the ramp out from under the roof into the view of the sky. Arms spread and the long hair moved in waves. Out she went, with a body full of exhilaration and a mind full of bliss, into a world that was her very own, moulded by her thoughts, guided by her imagination.

Written by Anuran Chatterji

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