Samyukta had an uncomfortable night. Not a wink of sleep on her eyes. In the still night, her eyes wide open, she stared at a photograph bound in a silver frame staring at her. Her rocking moments echoed with the weight of her existence. Her thoughts wavered between past and present. She slowly walked to the window and peeked outside. The night Bangalore was alive. The stillness in the house was a striking contrast to the traffic outside that beamed light through their headlights. She shut the window door, holding the photo frame close to her heart, and slid to the past as she lay on She remembered her great booming voice that reverberated in the theatre hall. She remembered the times of celebration. She had moved from the stage of bright disco lights to a humble house of soft lights, she had moved from the times when the crowd cheered, applauded, and glorified to the times when she alone contemplated her very existence. Her high esteem that she was proud of had become quiet giving way to lowliness and loneliness. She investigated the photograph once again, a smile pursed her lips, and the spaghetti velvet red top matched her glowing face. She was the woman who had commanded respect through her presentable self and melodious songs. As she contemplated more and more on the photograph, she remembered her lovely days that followed one after the other. Each day was a celebration, more glittering than the other. As she lay with the photograph on her chest and one hand behind her, she was following her thoughts intently. What is left in her life? Sagar is no more. Niharika, who adored her mother once is happily married to Ajay. The glorious days of the past haunted Samyukta this day very badly. She now had every comfort of life but the zing thing was missing in her life. It was only Niharika’s occasional chats that she was looking forward to and that kept her life going. As she changed her sides on the bed, she heard her inner voice. She wanted to relive her glorious past again. This life was boring, featureless, undignified with stooping down spirits. Her compromised energies that would have brought her socializing, made more friends, or got into her world, straight into music was what she was yearning for. She cried. No, this kind of living is an absolute no-no for her. She threw the frame on the mattress, got up straight, and walked more confidently to the mirror. “Yes, I have decided” …She thought.
Early the next morning at the breakfast table, Nihaarika carried vessels from the kitchen and neatly arranged them on the table. Ajay professing himself tired of his morning work waited for Niharika to join. He was bothered, hungry, thirsty, and in immediate requirement of his tea and breakfast. Samyukta waited too eagerly to share her plans with Niharika and Ajay. Niharika made herself comfortable on the chair. “Mom, it is too tough to be a homemaker,” Niharika squeezed her face. Samyukta turned to Ajay, “What I find so boring about Bangalore is the busy people here, it is that they don’t have time for flowers. They can't imagine hibiscus or fields. I love to go back to my village and stay amidst them. I shall harness their talents and organize musical nights for them. I shall make a new beginning, a new life of laughter music, and joy….Yes, let me hunt talent and put up shows….”.