She got up and found herself in a huge crowd. There was a flying grief all around. Aunt, uncle, nephews and cousins – the house was teeming with family faces! Quite lost in this maze she shrilled out, “Maaaa...”
A tearful neighbour cradled her up gently and helped her wash and clean.
“Why are they all crying?”
“Your Dada is no more.”
She was too innocent to catch the last piece. But the word “Dada” churned her rosy wish. She was so little that she couldn't push through the throng of foes. However, her wish was kept as the throng thinned away slowly. She found her Ma with slow-moving eyes. The little valentine started pushing her sand-silent Dada, “Wake up! Playtime is running out!”
It's another love story that took place ... sans rose, sans kiss... on the 14th February of a forgotten year.