Happy the man,and happy he alone,
He,who can call today his own;
He who,secure within,can say,
Tomorrow do thy worst,for I have lived today.
Sunday morning. Arihant gets up from his cot and snugs between his parents. He bribes his mom into waking up by planting kisses on her cheeks. Tagore streams into my ears. Daylight pours in through the window and beckons me to another gorgeous day.