Write a story using these words butter fly, summer, rainbow, ballon, sky
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Answer:
I love balloons; to me , they signify colors of butterfly , freedom of birds ; yet they are life-less. When you let them fly you don’t worry about their safety in an unknown destination; you can cut all material attachments easily and let your love fly away.
Balloons also signify my colorful childhood ; each birthday parties of friends, Christmas decorations at home. I believed – every child can play with a balloon.
This story happened in a summer in a coastal city of India. Cities in India are versatile – they hug the poor and rich without changing their class differences or dreams. You can be happy & content no matter wherever you are – that’s how every Indian city stood strong for years and made rich history!
The boy friend and I gifted our Friday evenings to Pizza hut. One of the reasons was my eternal love for pizza. But the more reasonable reason was the road across the Pizza hut. On Fridays, that road used to be full of life – street vendors advertising their items , people shopping around for the weekend , children celebrating end of a school week with ice-creams and street food . Everything happy & extremely lively.
He loved a silent walk with me there. I loved our walk with cheerful crowd around. That’s love , people – two people can love the same thing with different explanations!
A lady hawker used to sell balloons in front of the pizza hut – big & colorful balloons. Her business used to be great on some Fridays ; other times, she used to sit there without uttering words, silently waiting . She had a beautiful daughter. Most of the time , I found them playing hide and seek game on that busy road.
One day, I thought of buying balloons for my friend’s birthday . I asked for a red, a white and a pink balloon. “How much do all of them cost?“- I asked. ” Rs 15/- Madam.”- She answered.
“You take this one” – whispered the little girl, the daughter , pointing at a blue balloon.
“Why?” – I asked with a smile.
“Because , it’s blue. No one loves a blue balloon. But I love this balloon. It’s like a little sky. If you keep this in your room, you can have your own sky.” – She answered.
I was surprised. In a city where skyscrapers covered up our sky , a little sky was something I really needed.
“But, that’s your favorite. Why do you want to give it to me? “ – I asked.
“Ma won’t let me play with it. So, you take it. It is a beautiful balloon . And you’re beautiful too. Only beautiful people know how to love a balloon. “- She ended.
That little girl’s kindness was contagious.
I bought two blue balloons from her mother ,that day. One , of course I gave her. [ She mentioned to me that they were homeless . “But I love blue sky” – she assured an almost teary-eyed me]
My room had a little blue sky for a while.
I also told my apartment partner about the girl; and later shared the story with my other friends in work place.
Years passed. The boyfriend became my life partner. Together we captured a little sky for us ! And we bought balloons from the same hawker many times [sharing a balloon with her little daughter every time].
Whenever my friends found a street hawker selling balloons they bought all balloons for little homeless girls.
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In Indian cities, there are countless homeless people surviving summer and winter on footpaths . In winter, they need blankets. In summer , they need water. Those are their basic needs. You alone can help them if you want to ( Of course). [Sometimes , only talking or listening to their stories helps too. We all need listening ears. ]
And if you see a little girl there , chasing a butterfly happily – remember , every child loves a toy and a balloon.