Mrs. White headed toward the yard in the back where the unkempt grass and yellow dead leaves covered in shadow of tall old peepal tree were in tandem with the mud brick house of the boy.
Guests were a fantasy come true, though a source of burden also but the kind hearted boy welcomed Mrs.White will enthusiasm.
The house, a canvass of emptiness had poverty painted all over.
" Aap yahan rehte hain son", said Mrs.White softly, cautiously preventing distortion of silence in the house.
" haan aunty", said the boy dribbling with innocence.
She stepped inside via the dusty path searching a place to sit and afaraid to ask for one.
The boy, showed an unexpected gesture of curteousy and brough forth a chair. Sullen Mr. White was twitching his nose, making hard attempts to prevent sneezing.
Mrs. White wasn't a mother but had imagined day and night what it would feel like to be one. A part of her knew well the spiritual India would gratefully give her with no reservations, the desire of her heart - a child.
Ten minutes had past since she arrived with the boy and now even Mr. White was wondering with brewing frustration, what her wife was upto ultimately. Her intentions though he has faintly guessed but he could not fathom the moment had arrived so quickly, so soon.
The boy jubilated with an unconcious sense of indebtness at mking a huge sale, lonely Mrs.White lost in thoughts and Mr. white still weighing the incredulous situation, sat idly together.
Each passing moment felt an eternity passing by; due to the rush of happiness and the crunch of anxiety.
to be contd ....!....)
