The Swing By Sagnik Datta

They had made a swing. They had tied a sari to a branch of a tree, and a girl, around six, with rough brown hair, was swinging on it. Her sister stood beside her and watched. She was around two, and she had a finger up in her nostril.

A small dog came running out of nowhere. It ran around the girl on the swing, barking softly. The little girl giggled. The ends of the big girl’s skirt hit the dog. Sometimes her feet brushed its fur, and sometimes her toes struck it straight on the nose while she swung up. The dog would bark and threaten with mock bites to her feet, and the little girl giggled. Sometimes the big girl would swing straight at the dog and try to capture it between her legs in the folds of her enormous unwashed skirt, but the dog was fast enough to duck and avoid, and the little girl giggled.

Then the little girl wanted to swing, so the big girl got off, and the little girl got on to swing and giggle. The dog continued barking and jumping around.

A little later, both the girls got on the sari and swung, standing, and I thought that the branch would break, that they would fall on the dog, and that all three would be hurt.

But nothing like that happened, and a minute later, possibly after having finally realized the risk, they got off and put the dog on the swing. Its legs hung out, and it tried in vain to jump off. The girls pulled the swing back and released it, then pushed it and wound it around. The dog swung and barked, and the girls giggled and jumped, and the leaves fell on their heads.

© 2015 Sagnik Datta

Sagnik Datta has a degree in Engineering Physics, but he is not sure where he has kept it. His works have appeared (or are forthcoming) in: Eunoia Review, eFiction India, After The Pause, Right Hand Pointing.

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