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Kshipra Pitre (Category- Short Story) (Nightingale | Certificate of Participation)

The nightingale hid high in the mango tree. Shy and elusive her color blended her well in the thick foliage. Her melodious Raag Malhaar reverbated and echoed in the valley. It was, at that moment, I was instantly transported to the little town where I had spend my childhood. It was in this one of the ancient mansion surrounded by a beautiful garden that I spent my childhood days, basking in the love showered by a neighborhood that was more than a family.

Summers were spent out in the garden with all the children climbing trees, playing hide and seek, and doing all that normally monkeys do. And most importantly, listen to a nightingale sing. Many an attempts were made to imitate her, but, all that we ended up doing was falling in a heap of laughter. Those were the days….. when the nightingale’s voice floated clearly from the trees without any hinderance. Today, when I hear this song drifting down from the mango tree, I travel down my carefree childhood days yet again, and relive a life of innocence!

Kshipra Pitre

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