The digital clock that her son had brought from America, a few years back, showed the date along with the time.
Reluctantly, it reminded her that it was her birthday.
Throughout the day, she sat, silently, trying to decide whom she missed more from all the people who have walked across her life, in slow and fast pace.
Through the shrubbery that had engulfed their garden since his death, a single jhumkolota hung passively, all day long, waiting to surprise her.
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