☀️ The Drop and the Thought
Amma was stitching something by the window.
A needle in her mouth.
She was mending an old cloth. Maybe a memory.
Mukshi tied his shoelaces slowly.
Daksh blinked from the shelf.
“That means yes?” Mukshi asked.
Daksh blinked again.
“That means yes… again,” Mukshi smiled.
Amma handed the bag.
“One banana. And tell the truth, if something asks.”
🚲 The Forest Sounds Funny Today
They passed the usual turn.
Past the broken gate and the leaning tree.
Somewhere near the big anthill, Mukshi heard it.
Bounce. Roll. Tap.
A small, red bouncy ball—rolling in the dust.
He stopped. Picked it up.
Daksh tilted.
“Not mine,” Mukshi said.
“But it’s nice.”
🧒 A Stranger With Small Steps
From behind the bushes, a smaller boy appeared.
Shirt half tucked. Hair sideways.
“My ball!” he said.
Mukshi looked at it in his palm.
“I didn’t take it,” he said.
“I just saw it. I picked it up.”
The boy nodded.
“Okay.”
He took the ball, looked at it like it was still moving.
Then gave a small smile.
“Thanks,” he said quietly.
And walked back the way he came.
🚲 The Ride Felt Different
No breeze. No big talks.
Just Daksh, flying slow.
And Mukshi, thinking quiet.
“I felt like keeping it,” he thought.
“But I gave it back.
I told the truth.”
And somehow,
the road didn’t feel so heavy anymore.
🏡 The Needle and the Pause
Amma was still stitching.
“You saw something today?” she asked.
Mukshi nodded.
“A ball.”
“Did you take it?”
“I felt like keeping it,” he said.
“But I gave it back.
I told him the truth.”
Amma didn’t ask more.
She stitched two more loops. Then said:
“Some things stay lighter if you carry them honest.”
Daksh blinked once from the window.
“That means yes,” Mukshi said.
“And that still means yes.”
Telling the truth doesn’t always sparkle.
But it keeps your pockets light,
And your road a little easier to ride.
Lekshmana Perumal Murugan 