This year monsoon had been long and heavy. It had caused floods in several places. Dark, tyrannous clouds had oppressed people's moods for months. Mosquitoes had overrun every household. The constant drip-drip of rain, and the dampness had made everyone irritable. It had been as though the Sun had gone on a long vacation to Hawaii and its return flight had been cancelled due to bad weather.
However, the weather had been as fine as could be for the whole past week. Autumn was in the air. It was finally nearing the end of August..and the weather was a perfect cocktail of mildness. Light breeze ruffled the foliage everywhere, the leaves glowing with pleasure. The sky had turned into a exquisite shade of periwinkle blue- the sort of blue which makes someone want to live forever and ever.
At the window of the imposing mansion, stood a woman. Her hands were clutching the old-fashioned window-bars, giving her the look of a criminal peeking out of her cell. Any observer would, on closer inspection of her innocent eyes, then and there declare that this lovely specimen of the feminine race could never have had anything to do with any felony.
She had been thinking. About the weather, about her life, about everything. Daydreaming. It was Sunday.
The sound of a doorknob turning behind her jolted her back to her senses. A little girl of about three years old had streaked into the room, wearing a sunshine-yellow dress, a doll dressed in identical clothes dangling from the crook of her arm.
The doll's plight was rather pitiful. Her three year old mother had decided to feed her with milk. As a result, the doll's mechanisms had been utterly mutilated, being soaked with milk. The tiny mother, aghast with horror, that her baby-doll was not crying on command, had barged in, hoping for a miracle.
But alas, even the doll's grandmother, that is, the aforementioned woman-at-the-window could do nothing to make her plastic granddaughter cry again.
With the doll lying motionless on the ground, her frozen smile in place, woman cuddled her daughter in mutual mourning.
But Jiya had her hopes yet. She had, at her disposal, another worker of miracles. That is to say, she knew of a man who could repair toy-trains when all hope was lost. He had fixed her Barbie's dislocated leg. A day's worth of glue-ing and Barbie had been back on her pins, all bright and shiny. Best of all, Jiya knew that this man was wrapped around her fingers...and would never deny her anything. She used this advantage unabashedly and repeatedly.
And the miracle worker had done it again. He had admitted the doll to a hospital and when discharged, she was perfectly all right again.
Soon, Jiya's baby doll was crying loudly.😃
That night, Jiya's mother, asked her husband, " So, Mr. Advay, how did you bring the patient back to life?
Jiya's father, the miracle worker, whispered in a conspiratorial manner, " I had to replace the patient with another one of the same model. I had to tell Jiya, that any food gave the doll one hell of a food-poisoning.
"Hmmm. So our daughter's doll is an impersonator? Chandni asked in a dead serious tone.
"So it would seem. Hope the impersonator lasts longer than its predecessor.
As Chandni and Advay laughed, the moon looked in on the sleeping form of their only daughter Jiya her worn-eared teddy bear snoring soundly beside her, its open eyes glinting in the half light.
And like in all fairytales, they lived happily ever after.
