The sky in his satchel.

Kriti parted the curtains of the living room window and looked down.She was on a holiday in this far off land and she stayed with her son on the sixth floor of the building.This was her favourite afternoon pass-time.She waited for the school bus to arrive below.She could see the mothers and guardians doing the same.The yellow bus stopped and out flew its wings disallowing all else to pass.As the door slid open the children jumped out of the bus.They were soon claimed by their mothers and skipped happily with their satchels,home.At home they had stories of their school to share and brought out the books and coloured pencils.Their tongues would not stop prattling;their world filled with yarns and tales.Their satchels had rounded pebbles,colourful glass pieces and a bits of the sky,their sky.The sky would one day be bright,some day wet and another day hot and sweltering.As the children grew, their skies changed size and colour.The skies were hidden from the mothers.They saw only that which was perceivable,not the mysterious world of the young.Soon the children grew up and scattered like the seeds of a tree.Kriti's child had also grown up;his sky had changed,taking up the hues of another far off land.