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                                                    The Album

 The cute monkey baby riding the back of its mother  was terrifically frolicsome.Jumping from the back going over the wall and then hanging from a branch swaying indulgently and the sullen mother though confident of the safety of its offspring growled at anyone who came in its vicinity
.She would look at them lovingly till the mother got up lazily careless of its mischievous imp who would make a neat dive on her back who sauntered away like a self absorbed ape carrying the burden with an imperceptible signs of worry in her  eyes.  
She was holding the hand of her child while trying to cross the road.It  was early evening and it was her daily ritual. She would  trudge  along  the broken pathways of her colony which led  to a nearby  park.The child  with a swing in his  small feet broke free from his  mothers grip ushering into the vast spaces of the  spacious park.He would feverishly get engaged with   all sorts of contraptions  of a childrens park and could not contain the joy and glee of being there.The rusty slides  and the lopsided swings were the main objects of attraction.The child being shy or may be reticent could never open up with other children and tried his   best to balance himself out   on the  see-saw bar.She noticed that he never looked at her for help or companionship.But she came forward to balance him out on the bar.It was an enjoyable ride for her too.And she  simply got enveloped in the aura of her childs mirth.On her way back she carried  him   in her lap though the child never demanded it. But his dwindling gait and irregular treads showed that he was tired.She got into a swing while carrying him which enabled her to adjust his weight.But the nearness of the child filled her heart with  surges of love which made her treads  so light.
She closed the album.The sepia toned pictures had started fraying at the edges.She always planned to buy a new fat album to fix the photographs in a  chronological order and also    save them from further deterioration.She would sometimes look at them with bewilderment.Was it she? Before her was the picture of a beautiful woman with dark flowing hair covering her shoulders ,wide beautiful honey coloured eyes.Another one –a beautiful beaming figure standing a little bent with flushed  cheeks holding a chubby   baby in the nook of her arms .The hand which held the baby was sprawled out holding it tightly yet so  carefully-the fingers  smooth and shapely.The child seemed to be whimpering but secure in the soft grip of its  mother.
It was some alien world stuck in the forlorn pages of the ancient album. Should  she revive it? It eventually would have its own eschatology but she still  wanted to rejuvenate it. One time she had arranged  them on the walls so lovingly  but gradually  she felt that  they looked more orphaned and neglected.There was nobody there to acknowledge them.And slowly and steadily they started morphing into phantoms.The sepia tone turned grim.Many a  times she thought of passing them on to her child as heirlooms but she knew that her child never believed in totems.

She looked into her almirah to find some durable bag to store them away and  so  they took  less space and were secure in their uninterrupted nich till  time and moths held sway on their destiny .She felt light and relieved as if some old pending issue was resolved.  

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