The magic of a smile

It was one of those mornings when you wake up on the wrong side of the bed, step on a stray banana skin, and then a car drives past you without minding the puddle. I tried humming my pep-up song in vain. I was about to give up and let the melancholic mood set in when I noticed her.

Every morning on way to work, I pass a bunch of school kids – some fifteen children of different shapes and sizes in bottle-green uniforms – waiting for their school bus. The little ones usually play some sort of game that involves running, jumping, and tugging. The teenaged girls smile coyly and make conversation with each other. The boys usually stroll at a short distance. There are some parents in the group as well; mothers chatting each other up and sometimes going through the bright kid’s notebook.

This morning there was an addition to the group. She was the most precious four-year-old I had ever set my eyes on. I think it was her smile. The little girl had gripped her brother’s hand as if her life dependent on it. The brother, a couple of years her senior, had a proud grin on his face. She smiled as she walked towards the group of kids busy yanking each other’s water bottles. I heard a soft mumble that could have been ‘hello’. The kids stopped their water bottle-war midway. I knew I was not her only admirer.

I walked on, smiling. The delightful kid had made my morning.

Now, I see the little bundle of joy almost everyday. With every passing day, I see her grow confident. I have seen the lifesaving grip relaxing and then disappearing for good. It has been almost six months and her twinkling eyes and contagious smile have never failed to cheer me up.


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