Thursday, 18 August 2011


blue sweater. He took that in his hand, and looked towards where she had gone. There was no sign left. She was gone. Mustafa continued with other early morning shots in the park.

In fact he was in search of better locations. With his camera in hand, bag on his shoulder, the blue sweater of Feriha in other hand, he started walking towards the far end of the park, where Feriha had gone. On his way he took some more photographs.

The sports complex wasn’t too far from the far end of the park. Seeing his press card on the gate, he was taken in. Sitting on the stairs of the stadium, he saw Feriha running. He kept on watching, taking her photos from time to time. She was a good athlete, a good sprinter, who did not take much time in reaching into his heart through the lens of his camera. She did not even know
how she had crossed this distance in such a short span of time.

Mustafa waited in the stadium, till the end of the morning training session. He went to her as she came out of the track, sweating. “You had dropped it there”, Mustafa said, pointing towards the park. “Oh yes,” she had not even till then noticed the absence of her sweater. “Thanks a lot,” she said.

“I am sorry, I took some nice snaps of yours without your permission, while you were running”, Mustafa wanted to ask her sit with him for sometime, but he could not say that. “My name is Mustafa, and I am the photojournalist for a local daily,” He was interested in holding her for some more time. She on the other hand, was so tired; she wanted to go to her room immediately. But Mustafa managed to have some more snaps of hers. Feriha did not want to stay, but there was something that was forcing her to stay. She agreed to have some more snaps shot.

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