And she was gone…

My brother’s words were fast disappearing into a haze. I was finding it tough to reply even in monosyllables. I knew I should have stayed. I wanted to go back. I asked him if we should. I knew I wasn’t asking but letting him know I wanted to go back. And we turned back. But, we were late for she had left already.

                But her charming smile and exuberant words did not.  My brother continued licking the melting ice cream and I sipped another ounce of lassi. There were still a few customers in the shop we bought our delicacy from. My searching eyes were still surveying for the angel who had stopped me when we came out with the ice-cream from the shop.  “Anna” said the little one, her height barely touching my hips, gesturing at my brother’s chocolate ice-cream asked “ Yeshtu anna ee ice-creamu?”. While I did pay the cash myself, which in itself is a rare occurrence as my friends and parents would testify willingly I did not know the exact price of frozen beauty. I hunted for the price of my modest lassi in the packet to deduce the price of the ice cream. Sherlockesque Rahul, you might say.  As I struggled to locate the price of lassi, perhaps impatience got the better of her. Or she thought my ears were of an old man. “Adhu alla anna, ice-cream yeshtu antha keludhe? “, said she with the brightest of smiles I have ever seen. There was something smart about her. In a green coloured gown, and a black bag resting on her shoulders her smiling face refuses to desert me yet. Even the grumpiest of birds ought to smile back. And so I did and with an extra sense of urgency, I did the calculations. “Adhe adhe, eepathondhu ruppay” (Twenty one rupees) I said. And she smiled again. I did too.

               Barely had I managed to cross the road, there was a bigger thought that crossed my head, did I walk away soon? Was she a little girl who had fifteen rupees and wanted the ice-cream badly? And my brother asked, why did she ask you da? Yes, why did she ask me? Should I have waited to see what she did? Were her parents waiting nearby in a car who would buy her, her coveted dream?  Her bag suggested she was alone.  Rarely does regret fill in you in such unexpected circumstances. I knew were late. Yet, we turned back. My worst fears came true. The little princess had walked away with a broken heart perhaps. She was not to be seen in the shop.

               Of what use were the thousands in the bank if I could not make a little girl’s day? Very seldom, do we have chances to make such a difference in a day of people’s lives. I had a chance today. And I missed it.  How I regret it! And with my brother, we trundled along back home. The ice-cream in his hands had not yet melted, my heart had.