Silky jiggled for joy, her weight would not let her jump. But no amount of refreshing the screen would update the “out for delivery” status on her courier tracker. Her college acceptance was on its way and she couldn’t wait to tear open the long awaited package.
“Bhaiyya ji, stay alert please. The delivery boy should not take my papers back because no one opened the door,” she briefed their domestic help in a tone of utmost urgency. Father, mother, grandmother were all placed on a vigilant standby. Twice she had braved the 47 degree Celsius heat outside to peep into their mailbox. “You know he is going to take your signature,” her brother mocked her. “Have some patience!”
There were three false alarms. All of them were rewarded with glares from the college applicant. The laundry guy was particularly crushed to see the disappointment on her face. “I shouldn’t have rung the bell,” he chided himself.
Silky’s mood swung like Tarzan. She flitted between tasks, unable to keep at anything long enough. Soon enough, she was rubbing her forehead and taking long breaths. Completely drained at the futility of the exercise, Silky decided to step out. Her electric blue Scooty was swallowing the corner turn when the Fedex delivery van drew up at her gate.
A watched pot never boils now, does it?