The clock displayed at 7:30. The evening light was at its lowest. The official purpose of the day was coming to an end for many. Yes, there are those who believe in working for long hours, trying to get that big jump whether it is at work or at business. But no matter how busy, there does come an unexpected time with reflection.
Grishm had returned home on time that day. It had been a while, in fact if he were to be asked when was he on time the last time, he would probably have to ask his wife.
Grishm changed into his home clothes, picked a finance related book from his study room, attended a work-related call and then walked to the drawing room where his cup of coffee awaited his arrival and where his wife Watika and his 6 years old son Rijul were also present.
There was silence in the room except for sound from the television. Grishm checked the mail on his smartphone while having his coffee kept on the small coffee table near the easy chair. When he was done, he kept the phone down and picked up the book to realise he had brought the wrong book by mistake, instead of the book on finance he had brought a book on living a long and healthy life, a gift by his younger sister.
Grishm got up to take the book back, picked his cup of coffee in one of the hands intending to do the reading in the study room. The steam although weak, was still rising from the hot cup of coffee. Grishm suddenly realised something, he realised the silence, ever since he had got back, his wife had been busy with her phone and his son had been busy watching the television and on most days he himself would be absent, working late hours at the office.
It was quite different in contrast from his very own childhood where his parents were very much involved with Grishm and his sister, catering to most of their needs not just by providing financially but also by being there and spending that time to talk, to understand, to teach. Those moments of conversations had become glowing photographs in the rooms of the mind and heart.
Grishm looked again at the book in his life and he sat back down. Things were definitely going to change for the good.
Written by Anuran Chatterji
Early Morning Memories 
One response to “One Evening”
Yes. Much is said in silence…
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