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?
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