![]() She looked at the empty terrace which was looking at her blankly, with a strange sorrow in its environs. A jagged cloud covered the full moon, snatching away with it whatever of the blue moonlight that was soaking the wide backyard of Pushpa’s ancestral bungalow. Putting her spectacles on her teary eyes and wiping those tears before wearing her specs. ![]() The swing swung in steady motion and the night stopped growing dark but Pushpa still was looking at the page, feeling it with her somewhat wrinkled hand. She always read her diary but the moment her finger felt the torn page she shut it close. A star who she knew had been gracing her diary’s half torn page since almost 25 years. The stars were looking at her from the sky and she was finding a star amongst all of them. With the grey in her hair overshadowing the black and a pristine white Sari hugging her would-have-been-stunning-30 yrs ago figure, she was lying down on the cranky swing at night. Flipping through the pages of her diary, Pushpa reached a page she always had avoided reading.
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