The paper boats bobbed in the shallow waters near the edge of sea.
Rani, the fisherman’s daughter, watched them from near her home. She had made them earlier in the afternoon.
“Amma,” she called to her mother who was inside. Raindrops were beginning to fall slowly, and the clouds above them were turning darker with every minute.
Gayathri, her mother, came outside, and sat next to her.
“Amma, will my boats be safe in the rain?” Rani asked her, worried.
As she held her Rani close, Gayathri looked at the boats, and then at the horizon, her expression the same as her daughter’s.
“We can only hope, Rani. We can only hope, and pray that they be safe.”
The fishermen’s boats bobbed somewhere near the horizon.
(21st April 2014)