It was a lambent morning, lit up by the sun , blazing gently in the far-off , cloudy sky . Wind rustled around ; Birds winged around, chirping and cooing . Rehen sat smugly on the wooden chair , flipping through The Times Of India , by the window , looking out on sprawling a tree .

A couple of yellow wasps buzzed through the window into the room where Rehen's little , adorable son , Isha , lay fast asleep , safely hedged around by a mosquito net . The buzzing sound left a trail behind , which caught his attention. He looked up and then , around , trying to make sense of the sound , the buzz now reduced to a low hum . He stood up from the chair , leaving it swinging back and forth like a pendulum , and stealthily , paced into the room , following the humming trail . He was glued to the spot , seeing the wasps , hovering over the mosquito net in which his son was in sound sleep . The newspaper lay firmly clasped in his right hand .Sensing potential threat , he started swinging the newspaper around while hissing tremulously , in a desperate attempt to drive away those pesky wasps . Now , the wasps , being...