I was still waiting for my bus.

It was 6 AM. She was clad in a white churidaar salwar-kameez with an elaborately coiffed hair. She had her arms filled with cheap but lovely bangles. Uneasiness could be clearly seen on her face. She was restless. She was carrying a rather empty looking big bag. That was a school bag and she was about 10 years old.

Her mother, wearing a traditional Muslim veil, was standing beside her looking towards the road with a concern and anxiety. They were standing at a deserted bus stop.

The girl with a heavy voice as though she was about to cry, says to her mother, “Amma, because of you I missed my school bus!” She continued her gaze for a bus to come, but with declining optimism. She chided her mother, saying, “Amma, why you had to take so much time to dress me up? Was it necessary for you to coif my hair? A simple combing should have been enough. “ Her mother with all the love she had, looked at her and said, “I wanted my dearest daughter to look beautiful and… ” She was interrupted as an auto-rickshaw halted just in front of them.

Her mother went near the auto and asked the driver, “Are you going towards ABC school?” He nodded. She inquired, “How much?” He replied, “###”. She came back to her place and hugged her daughter saying, “Beta, a bus will be coming soon, don’t worry.” The girl pulled herself out of the embrace and shouted, “I want to see the Indian flag getting unfurled. I want to sing Jana-Gana-Mana. I am going to miss all that this year because of you.”

They kept waiting. Few more auto-rickshaws passed by. She was getting very impatient. Her mother seemed very helpless.

Her mother opened her half-worn purse and seemed to be counting whatever she had in there, and then glanced at her daughter who was looking away. For her an amount of ### should be at least a week’s household cost.

Another auto-rickshaw was approaching them; the girl looked at her mother with a plea in her eyes. Her mother smiled, kissed her on her forehead and put forth her hand signaling auto-rickshaw to stop. She jumped with joy and hugged her mother tightly. The auto-rickshaw came to a screeching halt and both mother and daughter hopped in with a glee on their faces.

I was still waiting for my bus. As for me there was no school to go to and no zeal to sing-aloud the national anthem. I had just returned from a tiring journey and was to get home and sleep. It was 15th August.