A small one-room household. The place is practically overflooded with things, but neatly stacked, one on top of the other against the room’s four walls. It is 8 p.m., and the moon is peering against the dark clouds, impatient to shower its lucent light on the life below. Two small kids are playing in front of the house. The mother comes home after work and sits on the floor, on a mat. The father gives her a glass of water and tells her, “Tu aram kar” (you rest). I have already cooked. The kids have eaten too”. She smiles a tired smile at him, and he smiles back.
As he comes out of his house, the younger kid runs to his arms. He picks the kid up, throws him in the air, and catches him back. The kid laughs hysterically, saying, “More, Papa, more.”
“See a puppy”, the father points out. The older kids run towards it and pet it. The younger one wiggles down from his father’s arms, saying “Boo boo”. The three of them enjoy the light drizzle of rain and the on-and-off shimmering of the moonlight.
