Only in the world I fill up a place, which may be better supplied when I have made it empty.
I stood on the last step looking at the swirling depths of the river – my watery coffin to be. It had been 2 months since my last job, and twenty since I had come to the city seeking a fortune. I was a failure. I knew that.
Buy a diya, sir.
I looked down to see a young girl, with a smile as radiant as the diyas in her hand.
“Float a diya in the river, and make a wish. The Goddess will fulfill it” she said, holding out her wares. The diyas reminded me of Diwali celebrations at home – decorating the house. My eyes filled at the memory of my mother’s soft touch, the smell of the jasmine oil in her hair. In a trance I took the pro-offered diya, and bending down let it float down the river, uttering a silent prayer. Then I turned and climbed the stairs with resolute steps to a new life.
This post is in response to the visual prompt given by VisDare 61.