When we are middle aged we have a different perspective on the memorable incidents of our past. Recently my daughters and I were recollecting the day's events on the day Prime Minister Indra Gandhi was shot dead by her bodyguard early in the morning at her residence.
Our daughters, one 6 years and the younger 4 years old were in school by the time my husband rang up from office that the PM was confirmed dead according to his colleagues in Delhi though the state radio AIR was insisting that she was being treated in the hospital. Needless to say this news had caused the immediate stoning and stopping of all public transport and all the schools closed their gates at once as is usual in our state, with no concern for the children who wouldn't have an idea about how to reach home. All the stay at home mothers were hard pressed to think of safe ways to bring the kids home from school who had been earlier dropped by school rickshaws which had stopped pying on this news.
As the school was just one km away from our home, I thought I could go by walk with my neighbour and bring our kids home. Just a few yards on our way, we saw our daughters walking their way home with the neighbours' daughter who was in 4th standard at that time. On that day, I was so relieved that the older girl managed to bring our kids home safely. But now I shudder to think that the 'older' girl was only nine years old at that time and not so old!
Tuesday, May 01, 2012
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