It was evening, like any other, heavy with quiet despair. As I walked home, I shed the day’s office burdens, letting them drift into the dusk. The unnamed trees along the footpath stood tall, their green leaves glowing in the fading light, a silent beauty. Birdsong filled the air, the final chirps before night’s rest, weaving life into the world around me. I paused at the bustling marketplace, picking out a chocolate for my daughter. Her smile bloomed in my mind, and my heart swelled—I was, in that moment, the best mother in the whole world. Arriving home, I heard the familiar creak of the gate as my daughter flung it open, her eyes alight with joy over the chocolate gift. She spilled stories of her day, from school adventures to tales shared with her grandma, my mother-in-law, each slice-of-life moment enchanting my weary soul. Night drifted in, the moon casting a gentle smile across the sky. In the puja room, the diya flickered before the altar, its golden glow dancing with the deity’s serene presence, while the agarbati’s sandalwood aroma wove a sacred calm, a whisper of prayers lingering in the air. Life, in that quiet, holy embrace, felt utterly beautiful.
The day jumps in the lap of night and passes the threshold of dusk. Life becomes still beautiful, accepting changes and welcoming new civilisation and welcoming new people to act as per their luck perhaps. How could problems around us be stopped as those are part of changes? So it would be better to accept and walk on. Civilization changes and people change. Changes is their way of life. No one can stop.
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