The little girl was sitting on the pavement, playing with some stones and sticks. Her hair was dishevelled and her face greasy. She was 7 or 8, probably too young to be all by herself, but I guess the world did not really care about her. And from the self-involved look in her face it was evident that she did not care about the world as well.
My father had parked the car there and had gone to a shop nearby. I was waiting for him.
It was many years ago. I was still in college.
The little girl raised her head and looked at me. I smiled at her. She came close to the window and stood there, staring at me with out even blinking. Then she smiled.
She stood there and smiled at me for some time, then a man came and tried to take her away from there. She just stubbornly freed herself . She said something to the man pointing at me. All I could hear was 'chechi chechi'. She came back and we continued to look and smile at each other.
Then my father came back. She waved at me when we took off.
Why do I never forget the look in her face?
My father had parked the car there and had gone to a shop nearby. I was waiting for him.
It was many years ago. I was still in college.
The little girl raised her head and looked at me. I smiled at her. She came close to the window and stood there, staring at me with out even blinking. Then she smiled.
She stood there and smiled at me for some time, then a man came and tried to take her away from there. She just stubbornly freed herself . She said something to the man pointing at me. All I could hear was 'chechi chechi'. She came back and we continued to look and smile at each other.
Then my father came back. She waved at me when we took off.
Why do I never forget the look in her face?
