Aagaya gangai
It’s about 8.30, the house is abuzz with people getting ready for work. Family members waiting their turn for their shower. Father is saying his prayers. The aroma of camphor and burning wick mixes with the delicious smell of the morning meal being prepared. You get a whiff of someone ironing clothes using the study table which has many uses. You’ve finished your morning routine, put on your school uniform. They are calling you to have breakfast, but the main course is not ready yet, so you have hot rice and curd, which is enough to last you till lunch, which will be packed with the dish that wasn’t ready for your breakfast. You are waiting for your friend to come over so you can walk together to school. You check if you are carrying everything you need for the day in your bag, you notice the geometry box is really old, but no point asking for another one. Its been used by all your elder brothers, so it’s good enough for you. Just as you slip the lunch box, which is hot, in the bag, your friend comes. You still have time, and you decide to stand around listening to the radio which has been on for over half hour. This sing comes on, with a majestic beginning, haunting humming, lilting rhythm and mesmerising violin pieces that will stay with you long after you’ve moved out of town. Suddenly, school doesn’t seem so bad after all.
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