The phone has stopped after ringing third time in consecutiveness.
She look at her reflection in the mirror. Thousand questions rumbling in her mind.
What does he have? A house? No.
What does he have? A stable job? No.
What does he have?
So many “what does he have” she had been showered with and all revert went in vain…
The phone again rang as another “what does he…” of her mother ramble in her mind.
She let it rang and as it stopped for fourth (time), he turn the cell off (and)–
Open the cell and threw the sim away after damaging it with her teeth.
She looked at the mirror and found her eyes teary. I shouldn’t cry…I shouldn’t…
What Ma…what Aunt saying…it’s true…what does he have…
What does he have…
What does he had gifted her except tantrum of running out of money–
‘fore it’s the tenth of a month…
What does he have…a rented home…a loan for his education–
The education that is of no use to him now as he worked not according to–
His educational qualification…meeting some “target” receiving calls…
Another cell, she has, ring. She startles. It may be him.
She took it up and saw no it is not him.It is him.
As she receives the call the phone show him calling as another call,
But, she never disconnected the call for it.
Are we becoming so much lover of material that nothing stands in front of it?
Ar we becoming so much inclined to comfort of life that beautiful aspect–
Like love changing itself…
Did the song of the cuckoo or the soft noon sun are just a cacophony or mere imagination?
Are we taking care of own?