Call me talkative

"And what is the best thing you like to do,Pooja?"
A spontaneous response poured out of the little girl's mouth
"Talking"
Though it was a very obvious answer,the teacher had not expected the girl to admit it.
'What's wrong if I love to talk?' the girl would think.But on every parent-teacher meetings, talking would be on the top of both the parent's and the teacher's 'complaint lists'.



"Practicing Random acts of kindness" was the school's thrust of the year.Teachers talked about it in the 'value education' classes.
"Do whatever you can do to help people." The teacher had said.
The best that Pooja could do was 'talk'.She had always disliked people complaining about her being 'talkative'. Why should they be complaining about it? She had thought.



Pooja used to see an old lady sitting in the lawn whole day.The old lady was her friend's grandmother and from what her friends said about her, pooja had realised that she was not loved.
She had understood(kids do understand!) that the women sat alone in the lawn trying to escape the reality(that now seemed to be inescapable).Pooja saw the lady's grandchildren ignoring her some times and laughing at her at other times.(being laughed at was perhaps better than being ignored.You laugh at something when you are aware of its existence.)
"Amma......"The little girl called out to the old lady.Pooja saw the lady smiling for the very first time.
If one word can do that, what must all that i have do-Pooja was amazed.
And then every day was filled with innocent words for the old lady and magical smiles for the little girl.
'I am talkative.Everybody tell me that I am talkative. I love to be called talkative! And I love to talk to 'amma'.I feel so very happy when amma smiles.She is a nice women.Theres just one little problem' she thought 'amma speaks a different language.'