tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27154475755193940732024-03-17T20:03:42.568-07:00BROOK AND PEBBLESHarjeet Ahluwalia is fascinated by the play between water and stone, and its myriad manifestations in the life around her. An irregular chronicle of the incessant ripples, and other rambling notesHARJEEThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13206104503390499833noreply@blogger.comBlogger76125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2715447575519394073.post-45673600813833243242023-06-30T00:05:00.002-07:002023-06-30T00:05:32.964-07:00STORIES FOR YOUNG ONES - VI<p><i>Sharing some stories I have been telling my three grandchildren </i></p><p><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">RITI MEETS HER
GREAT-GRANDMOTHER</span></b></p><p><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;"></span></b></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRnjc8IkIwEYf6oPJ_LpGlWYI7JbJeXwGKlynxh04nuwwJ52Y5yzM4TnBkwr0DE4-jVvouOg2cKXARFTtI755M5k9sR9TW6FH1Wux5tylDYe3wtDtaLbsegF93k-oICKRm3AARkFGou3o0ddMzr_AhbNA-gLSJAbo0YQ4oMuarw-4Fhe8jiZC6VDcHHB0e/s1080/20230629_133700_0000.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRnjc8IkIwEYf6oPJ_LpGlWYI7JbJeXwGKlynxh04nuwwJ52Y5yzM4TnBkwr0DE4-jVvouOg2cKXARFTtI755M5k9sR9TW6FH1Wux5tylDYe3wtDtaLbsegF93k-oICKRm3AARkFGou3o0ddMzr_AhbNA-gLSJAbo0YQ4oMuarw-4Fhe8jiZC6VDcHHB0e/w296-h296/20230629_133700_0000.png" width="296" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image courtesy: Canva </td></tr></tbody></table><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12pt;">Ammu had a great way of bringing her
stories to life. She would associate her subjects with a colour or with a dish
she was cooking or some chore she was performing at that hour.</span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Riti had grown up listening to tales of her mother’s girlhood. Some or the other uncle, aunt or their children kept drifting in and out of Riti’s home. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">After they left, her Ammu would recount some interesting event or anecdote related to those or other relatives.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">Thus once, while kneading dough, she
told Riti about an aunt who hated being given this task. Riti was fascinated by
the way her mother could roll out a wonderful ball of dough using
powder-looking flour and water. So she could not imagine why the aunt had not
enjoyed doing it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“That was because she did not like
anything to stick to her fingers. But then, that was exactly why Grandfather
insisted that she prepare the dough daily for the entire family,” Ammu replied.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“But you had a huge family, Ammu!”
Riti cried. She began counting on her fingers: “Your grandfather, grandmother,
my grandfather, his brothers … five of them, and two aunts. Ten in all!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“Of course ours was a huge family,
and you haven’t counted my mother and five of us brothers and sisters,” Ammu
smiled teasingly.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“Oooh, your poor aunt! But then your
uncles were also married, so there were other aunts as well?” Riti asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“No, not till then. This aunt was
last but one of the brood. You forget that we used to be put to work in the
kitchen even before we were ten years of age,” Ammu reminded her.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">Riti was curious. “I don’t
understand, Ammu. You had a large house with marble staircases and all, with
many servants. Then why did you girls have to cook?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“My grandfather said hard days do not
ring an alarm before they arrive. And servants may not always be around to wait
on you. You should know how to run the kitchen because that is the most
critical role in a household. Our schooling was not as important in those days,
though we did attend senior school.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“Ammu, why did your mother or
grandmother not knead the dough?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“Like I said, Grandfather wanted to
prepare his daughter for her life ahead,” Ammu told her patiently. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“Besides, my father was the eldest
child and lost his mother quite early, like I did. Grandmother, who brought me
up, was actually his stepmother and just a few years older than him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“I too had a stepmother. She was much
younger than my father and he pampered her a lot to keep her happy. She had
little time for us after she had children of her own. So Grandmother took us
under her wing. That meant she had plenty more to do. ... I was very attached
to her,” Ammu added, a little sadly.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“Is she dead?” Riti asked innocently.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“My grandmother? Oh no, she lives
with my youngest uncle,” Ammu replied.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“Do you meet her often?” Riti seemed
full of questions.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">Something had upset Ammu. “Sometimes,
when we visit my uncle,” she said vaguely. Riti was sent off on a trivial
errand and the rest of the story was forgotten.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">Some years later, when Riti was 14
years old, she accompanied her mother to a wedding in a dusty old town. It was
a chilly day and the girl was feeling rather bored. The ceremonies were over
before noon, and Ammu asked her if she would like to meet Grandmother.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“<i>My</i> grandmother,” she
said in response to Riti’s questioning look.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“She lives here? You never said a
word about it when we left home,” Riti pointed out accusingly.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“It was to be a surprise. Grandmother
lives in a colony close by, and is not well, so I would not have missed this
chance to look her up,” said Ammu.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">Against the drone of the lumbering
bus that took them to Grandmother, Riti hurled a volley of questions at Ammu. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“Why does your uncle live in this
faraway place and not in the city, the way your other uncles do? Why does
Grandpa not look after his stepmother? All your uncles are much richer than
him, no, so why doesn’t she live with any of them? Do they all send money for
their mother?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">Ammu had no straight answer to any of
these. But she did tell her daughter in a roundabout way that Grandmother
preferred to be with her last-born, probably feeling closest that way to her late husband.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">Riti did not fully understand this
explanation, but she could make out from her mother’s reluctant words that the
rich uncles were only too glad to have an ailing mother off their hands. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">Ammu could not tell Riti that
Grandpa, who was a fearsome father to her when she was small, had helplessly
watched when his much younger wife frittered away all his wealth on her own
siblings.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">Ammu’s uncle’s place turned out to be
a rundown house. It was one in a row of shaggy flats strung across one side of
a square, built around a large open space.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">The square had just one entrance, and
Ammu’s grandmother – a mere bundle of bones, actually – was heaped on a rickety
cot near it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">Grandmother seemed to have been
plucked from her bed and dropped there, seemingly to stay warm in the weak sun,
but the strong wind was chilly and unsparing. Yet her withered face was all
smiles when she recognized Ammu’s voice.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">She struggled with the blanket
covering her, as if to get up, but Ammu’s aunt suddenly swooped down on them. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">She must have spotted the duo when
they entered the square. She hustled them indoors, ignoring her mother-in-law
completely. They were served tea and biscuits, treated to a long list of the
woes that had befallen the family, and then escorted out.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">All Ammu managed to get out of her
aunt was that Grandmother had spilt hot tea over herself some days back and the
burns had not healed fully yet, so she had to be kept unclothed with just a blanket
around her.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">Ammu refused to move after she
reached Grandmother on her way out. Her aunt fluttered around helplessly. Ammu
spoke a few loving words to the old woman but out of sheer politeness to her
aunt, she did not mention the injury. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">It was with great effort that
Grandmother mumbled a few endearments into Ammu’s ear, her eyes nearly shut but
with love shining through. No complaint about her current state or suffering
passed her lips.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">Riti was quiet on the return journey.
A distressed Ammu kept glancing at the girl, but she could only guess what was
going through her mind.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“What sort of love exists in this
world, Ammu?” Riti spoke up when they were seated in the train taking them back
home.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“Uh, what love are you talking about,
dear?” asked Ammu in turn, apprehensive about what was coming.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“So people stop loving their parents
when they grow old and frail?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“What is the use of being wealthy and
keeping servants if you won’t attend to the needs of your own mother?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“Why do parents live only with their
sons? Your grandmother could live with us otherwise, no? <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“Does no one visit her here? Do they
know of her condition? Imagine, she doesn’t seem to have any flesh left!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“Where was this going to end?” Ammu thought.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">She was bracing herself for more when
Riti said, too wisely for her young years: “Well, obviously there is another
sort of love too. Your grandmother still loves you, she still loves all her
children, I am sure, and she loves her youngest son most because he is the
poorest of them all. Perhaps he needs her most, emotionally, I mean.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“I can’t say your aunt loves her, but
at least she hasn’t turned her out,” she added cheekily.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">Ammu knew then that her daughter had
grown up during the short trip to a dusty old town.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; text-align: right;"> </span></p>HARJEEThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13206104503390499833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2715447575519394073.post-43445444433670656932023-06-30T00:03:00.001-07:002023-06-30T00:03:46.329-07:00STORIES FOR YOUNG ONES - V<p><i>Sharing some stories I have been telling my three grandchildren</i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in; mso-outline-level: 3;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">WHY EVENING COMES
SO LATE</span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in; mso-outline-level: 3;"><b></b></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUoYory8rdVDIo1lrE18Y9zqXrsqsXTvCd7f54mcZ1wVw-DBj9fTLkCW3THA7z0J95JpnqnWCwnZuq4nAFSr9MYxrpFJTJfDargVPaZN0SXfEs5UTvE33As9mquke0hZHjKZ-i4cyuY4Tm1CUyaXs9IaNGrXlxcTKpnLORIhJGZMvvJshcjldumLPCZjmP/s665/20230627_151149.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="659" data-original-width="665" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUoYory8rdVDIo1lrE18Y9zqXrsqsXTvCd7f54mcZ1wVw-DBj9fTLkCW3THA7z0J95JpnqnWCwnZuq4nAFSr9MYxrpFJTJfDargVPaZN0SXfEs5UTvE33As9mquke0hZHjKZ-i4cyuY4Tm1CUyaXs9IaNGrXlxcTKpnLORIhJGZMvvJshcjldumLPCZjmP/w254-h251/20230627_151149.jpg" width="254" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image courtesy: Canva </td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b></b></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in; mso-outline-level: 3;"><span style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt;">Krishna looked at his
grandmother with his beautiful big eyes.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“When can I see the new baby, please?”
he asked. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">His Aunt had brought him a little sister,
Mom had told him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“When Evening comes,” Naani said with a smile.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“Oh! Where is Evening now? When will
it come?” Krishna wanted to know.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">Naani pointed to the clock.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“You know how to read the time on the
clock, right?” she asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">Krishna gave a big nod, making his
curly black hair bounce.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“When the small hand touches 5,
Evening will come,” his grandmother replied.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">He was satisfied, but only for a few
minutes. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">He glanced again at Naani.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">So she asked him if he would like to
know why Evening comes so late.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">Krishna quickly sat beside her,
eager to know.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">Naani told him it was all because of
the Sun. It is the reason why Evening arrives so late. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">The Sun likes to linger on, and does
not let Evening into their big blue playground, the sky.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">Of course, being winter, the Sun is
too lazy to get up early in the morning.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">Krishna giggled.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“Yes, it is just like you,” Naani
tickled him, and he gave a little peal of laughter.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">Naani continued: “Evening also wants
a big playground. It keeps telling the Sun to go so that it can play for a long
time. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“But when the Sun does go away, it
gets cold quickly and Evening runs home. As soon as Evening leaves the sky,
Night comes running.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“And Night is so black that we need
lights to see?” asked the wise Krishna, all of six years old.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“Indeed, Night is the strongest child
which plays in the sky. It does not get tired easily, so it keeps playing for a
long time,” she explained. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“Then after a long rest, Morning gets
up from its sleep,” Naani added.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">Krishna stretched out his arms
and legs lazily. “Like this?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“Just so,” Naani replied.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“Now Morning tells Night to go and
rest, and let it play with the nice, warm Sun. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“Do you know the Sun is very lazy in
the winter? It does not want to get up so early. So Morning blows white, woolly
clouds on it to wake it up.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“Remember when you went to school and
it was very cold, Krishna? You said you were walking in the clouds because they
had covered the roads and the sky!” Naani said.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“Yes, so Morning blows the clouds
like this, in big huffs and puffs? Like the Big Bad Wolf?” Krishna puffed
out his chubby cheeks.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“Yes! How did you know about huff and
puff?” she pretended to be surprised.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“I saw it in the video of the Three
Little Pigs story,” Krishna said proudly. “But when does the Sun come out then,
Naani?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“Well, Morning has to huff and puff
and also tickle the Sun,” Naani continued, covering Krishna’s eyes with
her hands.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“The Sun opens one eye, so there is
some light,” she said, removing her hand from his left eye. “Then it opens its
other eye, and there is more sunlight,” she added as she uncovered his right
eye.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“When it becomes very bright,
Morning’s eyes start hurting, and she says good-bye to the Sun. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“Afternoon is waiting, and rushes
into their blue playground. Then the Sun and Afternoon spend a long time
together. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“They are best friends,” Naani
concluded.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“So now the Sun is playing with its
best friend?” Krishna asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“Yes, it is, child,” she answered.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">Krishna decided he would not
disturb the two friends. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">He would take a small nap instead.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">He hoped Evening would be playing in
the sky by the time he woke up.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">Then he would go to the hospital to
see the new baby, he thought in excitement.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">Holding his grandmother’s hand, he
was soon fast asleep.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;"><br /></span></p>HARJEEThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13206104503390499833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2715447575519394073.post-80952476872234780632023-06-30T00:03:00.000-07:002023-06-30T00:03:09.653-07:00STORIES FOR YOUNG ONES - IV<p><i>Sharing some stories I have been telling my three grandchildren</i></p><p><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">HOW
THE RAINBOW GOT ITS COLOURS BACK</span></b></p><p><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"></b></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7RlwJcxUA8KQNxi-0dHN1ZazqzJb2wmMM5k8z-Q6_oGlK2JT-KZSyvK2JbZlGfujbR-MA9I55Rvvvn36YPIuvJCQFFOgS7pxBM99mQwrMggUgjkOGDWBKpJslunHib6dDYuZOpxkTJIss0dMFFfP-CT8As3mOpA_4rG-cQc6eMgJb_ENh2o2nIuZUPaT6/s1080/20230630_112940_0000.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7RlwJcxUA8KQNxi-0dHN1ZazqzJb2wmMM5k8z-Q6_oGlK2JT-KZSyvK2JbZlGfujbR-MA9I55Rvvvn36YPIuvJCQFFOgS7pxBM99mQwrMggUgjkOGDWBKpJslunHib6dDYuZOpxkTJIss0dMFFfP-CT8As3mOpA_4rG-cQc6eMgJb_ENh2o2nIuZUPaT6/w254-h254/20230630_112940_0000.png" width="254" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image courtesy: Canva</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt;">The rain had gone away, and the children wanted to
play.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">The Sun peeped out from the clouds, and said, </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 16px;">“</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt;">Hello!"</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt;">"It's time for hide and seek, rainbow!"</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">But the rainbow had only</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt;"> violet, indigo, red and yellow.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 16px;">Missing some colours, it looked so sad.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">The children in the garden saw it, and felt bad.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">They said, “Rainbow, you have only four colours. </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt;">Where are the other three?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">The rainbow said, “It stole them, the dragon from
the tree.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“Where is the dragon?” The children wanted to know.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“I’m sorry, I don’t know,” said the
upset rainbow.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">But the Sun said, “I know where.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">"I can see everything and everywhere. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“From the sky, all day I spread sunlight. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“When I go home to rest, I take along my light. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">"That
is when you know it's night.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">The Sun told the children where the dragon was
hiding.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">So was it sitting, or was it riding?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">Behind the flower pots? Or on the big cloudy mat? <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">In the big room where the king sat, or under his hat? <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">Under the bed? Or in the shed?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">No, it was hiding under Grandpa’s big white chair!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">The children ran inside, and made a circle there. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“Come out,” they called to the dragon.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">It got scared on hearing the children shout.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">So, slowly the dragon came out.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">It was green and orange and blue.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">Why was it green and orange and blue?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">It had stolen the colours from
the rainbow in the sky. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">Stealing is not good ... it makes others cry.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">The children said, “Return the colours.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">The dragon said, “No, the colours are so fine."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“I won’t return them, no,” it said. "<o:p></o:p></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 16px;">See how they shine!”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“You must!” said the brave children.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">They said, “Do it, or we’ll tell the dragon queen!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">The dragon begged: “No, don’t!
Here, rainbow, take back green.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">The children said, “Give the other colours
too.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">It agreed. “Okay, here, take blue.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">The children said, “But you still have orange with
you.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">So the dragon gave back orange too.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“Children”, smiled the rainbow. “I really thank
you.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Promising to be good, the dragon flew away.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">It made the children happy, and they went back to
play.</span><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></span></p>HARJEEThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13206104503390499833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2715447575519394073.post-4637808628522292282023-06-30T00:02:00.002-07:002023-07-01T06:24:17.151-07:00STORIES FOR YOUNG ONES - III<p><i>Sharing some stories I have been telling my three grandchildren</i></p><p><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">THE PEACOCK DANCE </span></b></p><p><b></b></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht5Lg3G_eljSPr1NV3Be4yH_OlPybk3bCPya2mVwuibbz1NolU79rJwYoZrfhOvgM0Cgg96jh-PzE5VSJ5TTxWjNYbv2PGSv-gNHFmbxAhH6YRatv499hwfL9Q-9XPx7nJW9Ieg9nAxmKRarze_fy_gstxtLRaWTIVTZLaIn0eNEJ9qIaurck3_Y3BMrXL/s626/images.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="376" data-original-width="626" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht5Lg3G_eljSPr1NV3Be4yH_OlPybk3bCPya2mVwuibbz1NolU79rJwYoZrfhOvgM0Cgg96jh-PzE5VSJ5TTxWjNYbv2PGSv-gNHFmbxAhH6YRatv499hwfL9Q-9XPx7nJW9Ieg9nAxmKRarze_fy_gstxtLRaWTIVTZLaIn0eNEJ9qIaurck3_Y3BMrXL/s320/images.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image courtesy: Freepik</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #222222;">A peacock was eating some seeds that had fallen on the ground.</span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It was so bored, and a little sad too.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Suddenly it heard a friendly twitter. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Tweet, tweet! Hello!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The peacock looked up and saw a bright yellow bird sitting on
the top of a tree.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Hello,” said the peacock.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Come up here, dear friend,” said the yellow bird.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The peacock said, “I am sorry, I can’t fly up tall trees.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Oh, you can. Just try,” the yellow bird said.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The peacock tried to fly up to the top, but landed back on the
grass instead.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The yellow bird flew around the tree in a circle. Then it sat on
a lower branch.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“See, it is such fun,” it told the peacock. “Come up.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The peacock lowered its long glittery neck sadly.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Sorry, I can’t. I have such long feathers. They are very heavy,”
it said.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Yes, I see you have long feathers. What do you with them?”
asked the bird.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I spread them out like a fan and dance when it rains,” the peacock
told the yellow bird.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“How nice! Please show me,” the bird said.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The peacock shook its colourful feathers and spread them out
slowly.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Just then it began raining. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The peacock was not sad anymore. It started dancing.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The bird flapped its bright yellow wings. “Wow, this is so
beautiful!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The monkey and squirrel and so many little birds also gathered
to watch the peacock dance.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">They all praised it and joined in too, but they could not dance as well as the peacock.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Peacock, you can’t fly too high but your dance is truly the best,”
everyone said.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The peacock was so happy, and i</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #222222;">ts feathers too shone so brightly.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I thank you all,” it said, bowing its long neck and turning
round and round.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #222222;">The peacock looked up at the clouds and silently thanked them too.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #222222;">Then it joined the dance party again.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #222222;">We all have something to be grateful for, after all.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #222222;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #222222;"><br /></span></p>HARJEEThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13206104503390499833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2715447575519394073.post-29507824139461818722023-06-30T00:02:00.000-07:002023-06-30T00:02:07.542-07:00STORIES FOR YOUNG ONES - II<p><i>Sharing some stories I have been telling my three grandchildren</i></p><p><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">LITTLE RED FOX GOES
FISHING</span></b></p><p><b><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicSg2uI-tcn56TdK43c3nta4bwYy5HRdK9pnW-P7bL0jR0_i6E1mYLuQGdBx2hPQrVBjhWJFdDisLQaGjoD8I4LTZkGmlvVz2an7Bu4TNkueV1xZGnuQlaOaV9bkxo-QmWUBFgCVA2rbxonTAkimmwefqRlO_OJVDejgWeT6GMsDYJsx5qsP1kv5GVvYbt/s1080/20230629_133947_0000.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicSg2uI-tcn56TdK43c3nta4bwYy5HRdK9pnW-P7bL0jR0_i6E1mYLuQGdBx2hPQrVBjhWJFdDisLQaGjoD8I4LTZkGmlvVz2an7Bu4TNkueV1xZGnuQlaOaV9bkxo-QmWUBFgCVA2rbxonTAkimmwefqRlO_OJVDejgWeT6GMsDYJsx5qsP1kv5GVvYbt/w230-h230/20230629_133947_0000.png" width="230" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image courtesy: Canva</td></tr></tbody></table></b><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt;">The little red fox was hungry.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">So it decided to catch a fish. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">It picked up its fishing rod and put pieces of bread in a basket.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">At the river it took out its fishing rod. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">It fixed some bread on the hook and dipped it in the water. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">It was drooling. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“Aha, I'll catch a big fish! It will be yum-yum.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">Oh! The rod became heavy. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">The fox jumped up. “I caught a fish!” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">It pulled and pulled. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">Up came the hook and what had it caught? <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">Oh no! A torn shoe with weeds!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">It threw the torn shoe away.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“Let me try once more.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">It fixed some bread on the hook, and waited and waited. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“I caught a fish!” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">It pulled and pulled. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">Up came the hook and what had it caught? <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">A tin with wriggly worms! Eeew!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">The little red fox threw the dirty tin away.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">The little red fox started fishing again. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">It fixed some more bread, and waited and waited. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">Suddenly, there was a tug! The line was jumping here and there.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">It was so excited, the little red fox.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">It had caught a fish at last! <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">The fox took the fish off the hook, and the line off the rod.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">It put them all in its big blue basket. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">Then the little red fox went home singing: <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">“<i>This fish looks very yummy. </i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: 16px;">“</span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;"><i>Now I’ll fill my tummy. </i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: 16px;">“</span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;"><i>Oh, so um-umm-ummm-ummmy!</i>”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;"><br /></span></p>HARJEEThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13206104503390499833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2715447575519394073.post-54160282865692633622023-06-30T00:00:00.002-07:002023-06-30T00:24:44.651-07:00STORIES FOR YOUNG ONES - I<p><i>Sharing some stories I have been telling my three grandchildren</i></p><p><b>THREE RABBITS GO TO GRANNY'S</b></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYZnYtjBmII6bPvWeq_dOqmKh6e2CxBl0AcywlIjOzpMsSnb-V22nzQ-InQPQcTMnzY827CZBTZ-oWaCXOKl1DOuP65G_I1u5MzFR4n3GzPrhMZ8Chyakc7uhqu3UbpdXw4U6TOHdUbIIKMQp_MIbtggsauiL1HoV08Ove2fCtjD3ufaWVlJ9mfefr0GWJ/s1080/20230629_133804_0000.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYZnYtjBmII6bPvWeq_dOqmKh6e2CxBl0AcywlIjOzpMsSnb-V22nzQ-InQPQcTMnzY827CZBTZ-oWaCXOKl1DOuP65G_I1u5MzFR4n3GzPrhMZ8Chyakc7uhqu3UbpdXw4U6TOHdUbIIKMQp_MIbtggsauiL1HoV08Ove2fCtjD3ufaWVlJ9mfefr0GWJ/w260-h260/20230629_133804_0000.png" width="260" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image courtesy: Canva</td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="color: #222222;">The rabbits Long-Ears, Hunny and Bunny were brothers.</span></p><p><span style="color: #222222;">Long-Ears was the eldest, with long ears which had given him his
name.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Hunny was strong, but not as tall as Long-Ears.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Bunny was the youngest and smallest of them all.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">One day, they set out to visit their granny.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">They had to take the bus to Granny’s house.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Bunny thought the orange bus was very big and high.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">He said, “Sorry-sorry, I am too small to get in by myself.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Long-Ears hopped into the bus first, and held out his hand.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Bunny boarded the bus with his brother’s help.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Thank you,” said Bunny.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Then Hunny hopped in.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The bus stopped near the big hill under which Granny had built
her home.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Bunny said, “Sorry-sorry, I am too small to get down by myself.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Long-Ears got off first, and held out his front legs for Bunny.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Thank you,” said Bunny again.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Hunny hopped off the bus next.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Long-Ears was very excited to see Granny’s house after so long.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">He began climbing up the slope very quickly.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Hunny thought it would be good to race, and began running too.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Little Bunny was left behind.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Boo-hoo, boo-hoo,” he cried. “Sorry-sorry, I cannot run so fast.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Long-Ears and Hunny heard their little brother cry.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">They stopped and looked back.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">They ran back to where Bunny stood.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Sorry-sorry,” said Long-Ears.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Sorry-sorry,” said Hunny.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">They held Bunny between them and took him up the slope.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Bunny laughed when his brothers swung him up and down.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Thank you,” Bunny said to them.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">At Granny’s house, they got big, juicy carrots to nibble on.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Thank you, Granny,” said Long-Ears.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Thank you, Granny,” said Hunny.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Thank you, Granny,” said little Bunny too.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">She told them funny stories and they all laughed.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Granny gave them a jar of carrot jelly to take home.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Give it to your mother,” said Granny.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Be careful,” she added.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I will, Granny,” said Long-Ears.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I will,” said Hunny.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I will too, Granny,” said Bunny.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Granny laughed and patted his head.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Then the three brothers ran down the slope.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Soon the orange bus came by.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Little Bunny looked at the big bus.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Sorry-sorry, I am too small to get in by myself,” he said.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Long-Ears picked him up by his front legs, and</span><span style="color: #222222;"> swung him into the bus. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222;">Bunny liked it very much.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">He hopped into the window seat and smiled </span><span style="color: #222222;">all the way back home.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222;">He would tell his parents how his day out with his brothers had been great fun.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-US" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></p>HARJEEThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13206104503390499833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2715447575519394073.post-28321238438249253702022-05-31T01:31:00.001-07:002022-05-31T01:31:58.542-07:00<h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">I binge on – Kdramas</span></h1><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">More than a year has passed since I stumbled upon <i><a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt8242904/">What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim?</a></i> It hooked me to Netflix in a way I would not have
believed possible. I have been a hardcore romcom fan since my teens, and over
the last 12 months, the South Korean TV shows that I have scoured <a href="https://www.netflix.com/in/">Netflix</a> for have
not disappointed at all. I keep looking for any old Kdramas
I might have missed, all the while looking out for fresh fare too. I feel sad
every time I see a serial with the notification, “Last date to watch …”. That
made me rush through the 2012 <i><a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt6352722/">Immortal Classic</a></i> once more!<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt8242904/">Secretary Kim</a></i><i> </i>will remain for me a serial apart from
all else, but my heart also flutters every time I revisit <i><a href="https://www.netflix.com/in/title/80998959">Doctors</a></i>, <i><a href="https://www.netflix.com/in/title/81033650#:~:text=2013%20%7C%20TV%2D14%20%7C%201,%2Dhyo%2C%20Kim%20Eun%2Dsook">Inheritors</a></i>,
<i><a href="https://www.netflix.com/in/title/81094069">One Spring Night</a>, <a href="https://www.netflix.com/in/title/80188354#:~:text=2015%20%7C%20U%2FA%2013%2B,%2Dji%2CKim%20Hyung%2Dsuk">Oh My Venus</a></i>, <i><a href="https://www.netflix.com/in/title/81283687">When My Love Blooms</a></i>, <i><a href="https://www.netflix.com/in/title/70215459">Secret Garden</a></i>, <i><a href="https://www.netflix.com/in/title/70215453">Pasta</a></i> and <i><a href="https://www.netflix.com/in/title/81045349">Romance is a Bonus Book</a></i>. And these are in random
order. Others that I occasionally watch again are<a href="https://www.netflix.com/in/title/81159258"> <i>Crash Landing on You</i></a>, <i><a href="https://www.netflix.com/in/title/81012551">Legend of the Blue Sea</a></i> and <i><a href="https://www.netflix.com/in/title/70213130">Boys over Flowers</a></i>. The last mentioned is more
popular among Kdrama fans than <i><a href="https://www.netflix.com/in/title/81033650#:~:text=2013%20%7C%20TV%2D14%20%7C%201,%2Dhyo%2C%20Kim%20Eun%2Dsook">Inheritors</a></i>, but my preference is
certainly the latter.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">For me, the hardships endured by the brave heroine in the 2009
serial <i><a href="https://www.netflix.com/in/title/70213130">Boys</a></i> are at times too over the top, and the mom too heartless by
half; I don’t mind Kim Tan’s father in <i><a href="https://www.netflix.com/in/title/81033650#:~:text=2013%20%7C%20TV%2D14%20%7C%201,%2Dhyo%2C%20Kim%20Eun%2Dsook">Inheritors</a> </i>as much. I also can’t
bear to watch the cruel mothers in <i><a href="https://www.netflix.com/in/title/80990935">Something in the Rain</a></i> and <i><a href="https://www.netflix.com/in/title/81012551">Legend of the Blue Sea</a></i>, and the hatred and evil some characters display in <i><a href="https://www.netflix.com/in/title/81159258">CLOY</a></i>
and <i><a href="https://www.netflix.com/in/title/80029520">Doctor Stranger</a></i>.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Kdramas treat heartbreak and heartache with great
sensitivity, but some are so poignant that it’s almost impossible for me to go
back to them, such as <i><a href="https://www.netflix.com/in/title/81012573">Marriage Contract</a></i>, <i><a href="https://www.netflix.com/in/title/81093182">Black Knight</a></i>, <i><a href="https://www.netflix.com/in/title/81267691">My Mister</a></i>,<i> <a href="https://www.netflix.com/in/title/80039909">I Hear Your Voice</a></i>, and the recent <i><a href="https://www.netflix.com/in/title/81568400">Thirty-Nine</a></i>. And, of
course, the 52-episode <i><a href="https://www.netflix.com/in/title/81093244">My Golden Life</a></i>.</p><p class="MsoNormal">I was still new to the Kdrama
phenomenon then and so binge-watched <i><a href="https://www.netflix.com/in/title/81093244">Golden Life</a> </i>into the early hours of successive
mornings, riveted as the sad lives of the heroine and her father unravelled.
Their inner conflicts made me overlook the emotions of the male lead, whose heart
is torn between familial and romantic love. I couldn’t fully understand what
had happened, so I went back to the scenes where their feelings undergo change
and the sacrifice he makes to win her over.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">That made me look for the undertones in Kdramas I had not
noticed before. I was till then simply enjoying them as the modern equivalent
of Georgette Heyer novels. Now I began to look for nuances, for subtle messages of
unconditional caring and sharing; of facing and fighting one’s fears; of
relentless and ruthless exploitation of the poor or less privileged by the uber
rich; of the determination in love to overcome the impossible; of change of
heart that comes about because of the pure love of another; of empathy and
sympathy; of the futility of hatred; thoroughly researched themes such as recipes, hospitals, political
intrigues, weather reporting and much more that I found so impressive. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">A few plots are simple, but most are multi-layered. The
romantic lives of the lead pair are intertwined beautifully with situations of
others around them. Nagging mothers, doting grandparents, spoilt kids, prodigals
returning home, star-crossed lovers, office intrigues, murderous business rivals
… all stuff that is universal to television and cinema, but Kdramas deal with them in such
novel and impeccable ways and settings that I haven’t yet got over them, and I don’t think
I will for a long time.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>HARJEEThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13206104503390499833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2715447575519394073.post-81266794239173366772014-03-22T08:01:00.000-07:002014-03-22T08:01:24.621-07:00Deju gets a beau – II<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 6pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The lights decided to come back just as the taxi veered out of sight. The old man turned to Deju.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 6pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I don’t know what to say, my dear lady. I understand you were trying to be helpful, but you </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">really</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">were off the mark. These three are students and we are all used to their odd ways,” he told her.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 6pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Can’t blame you, though. We must all thank you, in fact. At least you were alert to a potentially dangerous situation,” a languid voice spoke up from the back of the crowd.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 6pt 0in;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDJferyAlBrVhFNfjxIs-yjivq8SlwBJ62O5KcMLKulltjPq7ys4NlPOn_oVOhx-DVFICTuhQgj4XplG-l4nsdwH356gUitLPtmq7CCHpvITI7FXeFBgu9zhEse7BBqe9OZhOwtDPmdG4X/s1600/brookn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDJferyAlBrVhFNfjxIs-yjivq8SlwBJ62O5KcMLKulltjPq7ys4NlPOn_oVOhx-DVFICTuhQgj4XplG-l4nsdwH356gUitLPtmq7CCHpvITI7FXeFBgu9zhEse7BBqe9OZhOwtDPmdG4X/s1600/brookn.jpg" height="320" width="228" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Deju and her beau by the lamp post.<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Digital sketch: Harjeet</i></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The gathering parted to make way for a good-looking guy in his late 30s who ambled up to Deju. “I salute you, ma’am. Few of us would have done this. You are truly brave.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 6pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He walked up to her nonchalantly, and pinned her against the lamp post to see her face more clearly. “Did you sometime in college create a similar scene?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 6pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Deju was almost furious, struggling to get free. “What may you be suggesting, sir, if I may ask?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 6pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I am suggesting that you are the same girl because of whom I got caught in a women’s hostel one night,” he said, grinning. “I can’t believe you still pry on people, that too at night!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 6pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I don’t like to let thieves get away,” she snapped.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 6pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I assure you I share the sentiment,” he replied, loosening his hold nevertheless.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 6pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then he addressed his neighbours who, curious at this turn of events,</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> were </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">still hovering around without wanting to look intrusive</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He was only too happy to explain: “Some of you have asked me why I did not marry. Behold the reason for my bachelorhood. She exposed my affair with her classmate, but we broke up soon after. Why? Because I kept thinking of the girl who had had the guts to raise a hue and cry at finding a stranger where there should have been none.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He could see some nods and a general sense of approval on the faces of the people he had been living among for some years now.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 6pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I was confused. By the time I realised I was in love, you had left college. You stole my heart, and I can’t let you off, now that I have found you. Umm, I hope you are single too, or I’ll insist you get a divorce,” her smitten beau was speaking to her again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">An appreciative murmur rippled through the crowd. The sleepy boy was now wide awake. He could sniff a romance, a live one, the very first he would witness first-hand, perhaps. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">No, she shifted here alone,</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">”</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> he said helpfully.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 6pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Deju made a half-hearted attempt to fend off the man. “Aren’t you giving your imagination too much rein? How do you know I’m the same one? I haven’t said so myself. And I don’t know you from Adam.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 6pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Have you heard of signature tunes? You have a signature yell that trapped me then, and again today. So don’t you play games with me, my lady,” he purred.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 6pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It is not a yell. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hoot, I call it a hoot,</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">”</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> she corrected him weakly.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Call it by whatever name you wish, but it has been haunting me ever since</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">,</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">”</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> he breathed into her ear.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was an intense moment. The old man quietly motioned to the rest to disperse.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 6pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then he turned to Deju. “From what little that I have seen of you, let me assure you, ma’am, he is a man after your heart. And I’ve known him long enough.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 6pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Oh-ho, if you needed credentials, you have them now, but I assure you I <i>am</i> after your heart, pun intended. I have waited long enough, and I won’t rest till I have it,” </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Deju’s admirer </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">said with determination.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 6pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The crease on Deju’s brow cleared. “Then you shall have it,” she said in a low voice, overcome by uncharacteristic shyness.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The old man decided it was time to exit the scene, wondering at yet another of the mysterious ways of the One above.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 6pt 0in; orphans: auto; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;">
<div style="font-style: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Concluded</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
</div>
</div>
HARJEEThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13206104503390499833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2715447575519394073.post-26405020300084378812014-03-17T01:22:00.000-07:002014-03-17T01:22:03.833-07:00Deju gets a beau – I<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This was ominous, Deju thought as she heard yet another thud.
A do-gooder at heart, she felt it was her bounden duty to investigate. She
threw off the covers and stepped out of bed. It was pitch dark outside. The
power breakdown seemed never-ending. It was not going to be easy, she told
herself. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She had shifted into this flat just two days back and did not really know her way around the place. In the darkness, she could only guess the general direction of where the
staircase was located. Groping along the wall, she ran slam-bang into its banister.
She rubbed her temple gingerly, and peered down what seemed to be the
stairwell. Slowly, she felt around with her toe to ascertain where to begin
descending. Once she gained a firm foothold, the rest was a cakewalk. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ2FM_vAdhj8-e3Lr6IKo9ZkGRPCWa3yvgQ2JinEwE2XRUxG94JTLmu63SDLUgQMz99dD_QIdhwKAW-vy6Gocuo6MDdieaV5YX4GuKAFxYOWN-RUO_QqIW38fHzENYqVt_mP_AEZ4_TT16/s1600/brookn+-+small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ2FM_vAdhj8-e3Lr6IKo9ZkGRPCWa3yvgQ2JinEwE2XRUxG94JTLmu63SDLUgQMz99dD_QIdhwKAW-vy6Gocuo6MDdieaV5YX4GuKAFxYOWN-RUO_QqIW38fHzENYqVt_mP_AEZ4_TT16/s1600/brookn+-+small.jpg" height="320" width="228" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Deju could see two dark shapes in the lane.<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Digital sketch: Harjeet</i></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Deju had done this climbing up or down stairs in the dark often enough. Like
the time the smart alec of a postman thought he could return at night to steal
her roses from the lawn below. Or when the fishmonger tried to dump his smelly bag
of stale fish next door in the hope no one would be around to stop him. There had been other
occasions too. But she had sharp eyes and ears, she did. She had caught many a miscreant in the act, and been applauded for her daring too. Nowadays everyone was
scared of looking around just in case they ran into trouble, she thought a
little snootily.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She had reached the landing, and stood uncertainly against the wall. Exactly where had the sound come from – the left or
right side of where she was standing? She wished the lights would come on soon.
It was difficult to make out where the lane was leading to. Still, she bravely
blundered on, brushing against a number of shrubs jutting out from fences that ground-floor residents had put up. Twice she tripped over some flower pots but
managed not to tip them over. That would have surely tipped off whoever was responsible for those sounds.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Deju now had a good view of the lane. She could make out two
shapes. One was bending over a piece of luggage. Another was propping a travel
case against the wall. And lo! There was yet another shadowy character looming
in the balcony above.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She did some quick calculation. Two suitcases on the road
now, and God knows how many more probably still with the thief upstairs. If she
raised an alarm right now, the two in the lane might escape but the one in the
balcony would be trapped. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Thud!” went yet another bag thrown from the balcony. It was
followed by a smaller bag. A large basket was slung down a rope. The two people
below unfastened it and the rope was pulled up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So more was to follow, it seemed. Deju decided she had to act
fast. She recalled the time when the police trundled in much after the thieves
had scooted when she threw a trash can at them through her window. The can had
landed on a car’s windshield, as a result of which the owner created such a
shindy that there was no way anyone could have spared a thought for the
thieves. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Should she try the hooter method? If she let out sharp, loud
hoots at short intervals, would that alert the neighbourhood, or would these
people make a break for it before anyone emerged? She was fairly sturdy, but
even she could not grapple three of them single-handedly. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In her college days,
this had worked fine twice. The entire hostel was awake in an
instant. It was a different matter that the first time she had mistaken their warden for a hulking robber. The second time her classmate had been hugely
embarrassed because it was her boyfriend sneaking in.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">While Deju was weighing her options, the third person had
shinned down the rope and looped it back into the balcony. So the loot was all
in the lane now, she thought grimly. She had always been cat-footed, so when
she pounced on the surprised man nearest to her as she let out a loud hoot, he lost
his footing and was eating dirt in a matter of seconds.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Deju yelled again and again while pounding the second person
to the ground. The third one turned out to be a woman, who fell upon Deju
using her nails to good effect. She scratched and shrieked as loudly as Deju,
confusing the good Samaritan. Just then a car turned into the lane, and its
headlights shone upon the strange spectacle of two women engaged in fisticuffs
and screaming at each other while two roughed-up men stood dusting themselves
down and watching as if in a daze.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Deju had succeeded in rousing her neighbours. About eight or
ten people tumbled out of their flats, surrounding the foursome. The car had
come to a standstill just a few feet away, and the baffled driver had left the
headlamps on low beam. So it was possible to see faces clearly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">An old man spoke up. “Ma’am, may I ask what you are doing
here?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Oh, and you won’t ask them what they are doing here, stealing
stuff from that flat there?” Deju flared up. Calm down, she told herself
silently. You are new to the place, and they don’t know you yet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Who, these three?” asked the old man. “They live in that
flat. Why would they steal from it?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Really?” she retorted, a bit sheepishly now. “So is it normal to throw your
stuff down and climb down a rope from your flat? And no one heard a thing but
me?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">More people had joined them. One sleepy boy admitted to
hearing some sounds, but said he had been too tired to wonder about it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“You actually did
that?” the old man turned to the trio.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“She just came yelling down at us,” said the young woman who
had scuffled with Deju. “She had no business creating such a ruckus.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Yes, indeed, but did you really throw these bags down?” the
old man looked at them quizzically. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“We did. We have a train to catch, and couldn’t find the key
to lock our door from the outside. We burnt all the candles trying to look for
it. Our phone batteries have nearly run out because we were using them to
locate the key. Finally we decided to keep the door shut from inside and take
the balcony instead. On our return we would have called a locksmith,” replied
one of the flatmates.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“See, that is a taxi waiting for us, and we’ve already lost 15 precious
minutes,” he added, complaining.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“It’s okay, don’t miss your train. Away you go!” the old man sent them off as Deju fumed in </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">indignation</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>More next week</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
HARJEEThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13206104503390499833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2715447575519394073.post-41621003973654470652014-03-02T09:06:00.000-08:002014-03-02T09:06:18.184-08:00The fraternal twins<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Tonu thumped
his son’s back, happy with the terms of the contract Diga had drawn up. He
looked up at his daughter in the family picture on the wall opposite him. Digna
too had done him proud that morning, making such a good pitch overseas for the
project.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">And to think that
just a few years back he had almost written off his son, though he never let
his disappointment show. Of the fraternal twins, Digna was the prankster and the
daredevil, and her brother the tame follower. But the tide had truly turned one
day. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHyHdaDyrjpv9X1Um98LsfkkGEu9aZx5d2Kc59-ROXK2ogHM46U7rd32bWKz6C5bgT6yFEaLbEMbboDvfGPXo56q0WSQtZ_nQzgKdCRLVeXbLTZRLSIBopVme0yJ6qHzplsvN4u-oFNlKR/s1600/brook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHyHdaDyrjpv9X1Um98LsfkkGEu9aZx5d2Kc59-ROXK2ogHM46U7rd32bWKz6C5bgT6yFEaLbEMbboDvfGPXo56q0WSQtZ_nQzgKdCRLVeXbLTZRLSIBopVme0yJ6qHzplsvN4u-oFNlKR/s1600/brook.jpg" height="320" width="228" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Digna lost her footing in the strong current.<br /><div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Digital sketch: Harjeet</i> </div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">That was the
day they had gone to Haridwar.</span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Pradya’s face
had lost all colour. She saw the strong river current carrying away her
daughter while Diga stood rooted to the ground. He couldn’t swim. And he was terrified …
terrified of any and every adventure.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Minutes
before, he had just dipped a toe in the holy Ganga waters and receded to a safe
spot away from the bank. Digna would never do that. She must take risks all the
time. Diga was afraid to even sit by the river, lest it sweep him away. Digna
knew no such fear, though she too could not swim. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">She had gone down
the steps and grabbed one of the stout chains grouted into the embankment for holding
on to when taking a holy dip. The icy waters thrilled her no end, and she
made bold to wade a little farther into the gushing river. Suddenly there was
no solid ground under her feet. The current had lifted her off the steps, and in
the unexpectedness of it all she let go of the chain. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">She could
feel the water washing her away, but an iron hand caught her before she had gone
too far. As he clung to a chain with one hand and to his sister with the other,
Diga called out to his father to help bring her in.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Pradya rushed to her husband’s side to haul their children up the
slippery steps. Diga wept from sheer relief. He took Digna to a dry, secluded patch
where their mother dried her. Then he stood guard while Digna changed behind
the large towel Pradya held around her. All this time he and his mother tried
to hush Digna, for she was almost hysterical with laughter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Of course she
was in shock, but she was also used to laughing off her troubles. Her brother,
in sharp contrast, was a conservative lad. It was as if the genes of the fraternal twins had got
mixed up. Digna was an aggressive girl with don-like looks, and Diga timid and
very girlish. Their dissimilarities never failed to astonish. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Like the time
she had tried to dislodge a drain pipe on the terrace just because the nuts and
screws holding it in place were somewhat loose. Diga simply stood by helplessly,
unable to dissuade her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Or when she ambushed
an old man and nearly gave him a heart attack. Another time she poured oil into
a pail of water the manservant Aastu was using to wash the porch with. Had he
slipped on the oily water, he might have ended up with a broken leg or back. It
was sheer luck that Diga warned him just before he splashed it on the floor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Diga had been
overwhelmed by his sister’s sheer presence, perhaps from the cradle. She used to bawl
loudly while he scarcely whimpered, lying beside her. As they grew up, it was
Digna’s peals of laughter that rang out loud and clear, not Diga’s protests. He
had pretty early in life learnt not to mind her shenanigans, happy to just watch.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">At school,
Digna participated in every activity and won medals and certificates. Diga was
known more as Digna’s brother. His teachers took few pains with the
self-effacing boy. He attended every class, submitted assignments on time, never
asked a question, spoke when spoken to, and stayed in his seat during recess.
Apart from the compulsory physical education classes, he shunned every sport and
contest, but he did well in academics. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Digna’s
near-brush with death changed Diga forever. He had grown older in that one
second when she was nearly gone. A self-centred and headstrong girl till then, Digna
too began paying heed to her brother and his advice. A fine balance developed
between their personalities – she picked up some grace while he gained confidence. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Her dangerous adventures found a new monitor
in her brother. She could no longer stand in the middle of the road and wave
down an unwilling cabbie. Diga would push her back to the pavement. She had to
wear properly matched clothes, too, not any slapstick combinations. Those weird
hair colours and baubles also became a thing of the past.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">A relationship in which she took Diga for granted had now transformed into a more caring, sharing attachment. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Digna sought his advice when selecting her college course, and consulted him when they chose to go abroad for higher studies.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">They were now
the twins their parents had always wanted them to be – highly telepathic and
mutually respectful of their strengths and weaknesses. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">It was not just Tonu who was thankful for the change triggered by that one act of bravery. Pradya was
equally grateful for it, grateful that Digna was finally giving her twin his
share of space and place in society. Digna picked for him a trendier wardrobe.
She bamboozled him into taking up golf, and involved him in the young people’s
society she had helped set up. She even talked him into attending social get-togethers,
so important for their chosen careers.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">They had both
decided to join their father’s business after studies, and soon became popular in
Tonu’s office. Diga’s keen sense of the law and Digna’s architecture degree had
boosted their company’s prospects, and chances of a regular profit and a handsome
dividend for their shareholders had created a cheerful environment both at home
and at work.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Tonu packed
his laptop and stood up to go home. Diga was at his side in a trice, taking
charge of his father. As they drove home, Tonu confessed to him for the first
time how his feelings had changed towards him, from bare tolerance to pride, revelling
in his son’s achievements. Diga smilingly heard him through. Tonu at last asked
him where he had picked up the courage to leap to his sister’s rescue.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Diga said
with a smile: “The impulse to save her. The mere thought of losing my sister made
me rush in. Not in my wildest dreams would I have done that otherwise, Dad! With
due apologies to you and Mom, she was even then my universe and remains so.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">“I’m sure it’s
mutual. And why apologise? Which parent would not want that?” Tonu retorted. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">They laughed at the nettled look that Pradya gave them. She had heard the last
bit as she met them in the porch.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">“All’s well,”
Tonu reassured her. “It is your daughter we are talking about. We’ll worry when
one or both of them fall in love and have to expand their universe to admit someone
else into it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Diga had no
time for such talk yet. He was already splayed across the sofa, making a long-distance
call to his sister.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
HARJEEThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13206104503390499833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2715447575519394073.post-7961688040572392132014-02-22T07:03:00.000-08:002014-02-22T07:05:16.190-08:00Jiggs and the cat<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Jiggs
snarled. This was getting too much for him. The cat had dragged out his favourite
bone after having upset his basket for the umpteenth time today. He raced menacingly towards
the door, out of which the cat had bolted after her mischief.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">He stopped
short when a shadow crossed his path, and looked up to find Huh-huh eyeing him
quizzically. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8j13z9bPRSnGe4wxKcvXChoZDBboE7nVibotwQP2rMLMdZKsbZDuUFh_bTi3AhcV6JFW2xYH-DhyphenhyphenQaSMWW9Xjonnu5SptBmFMnDh4jXHPjqwYyjgxDttAQB27ID6mxEgiScsqlnGBaNjY/s1600/brookn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8j13z9bPRSnGe4wxKcvXChoZDBboE7nVibotwQP2rMLMdZKsbZDuUFh_bTi3AhcV6JFW2xYH-DhyphenhyphenQaSMWW9Xjonnu5SptBmFMnDh4jXHPjqwYyjgxDttAQB27ID6mxEgiScsqlnGBaNjY/s1600/brookn.jpg" height="320" width="228" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Leashed, Jiggs was unhappy with Huh-huh.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Digital sketch: Harjeet</i></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Jiggs was
very unhappy these days with Huh-huh, his master who had given him his strange
name. He had heard Huh-huh say a number of times he was an ardent fan of Mr Jiggs,
but little did he know that it was a comic strip character Huh-huh was
referring to. To him, Huh-huh was simply reiterating his love for his hulk of a
pet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Huh-huh?
Well, that was how Jiggs thought of his master, for those were the first words
he learnt to comprehend. It did not matter to Jiggs if Huh-huh had another name.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">And of late
Huh-huh was quite of favour with Jiggs. They had been quite a pair. They used
to go for long walks when the sun was still a little yellow globe up there. If Huh-huh was at home all day, they would play in the shaded garden when the globe glowed warmly. Once the sky turned
a dull blue and the sun went down on the other side, Huh-huh would take him for
a short run around the apartment blocks. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">A large
ball, an assortment of bones, a convenient hole in the garden to bury them or
dig them out whenever it pleased him, a smart leather collar, a lavishly done-up
basket, a bagful of old shoes and socks to tear apart, lots of meat, dog
biscuits and other stuff to gulp down – Jiggs had all these </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">and much more</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Huh-huh had
never failed to comb him down daily and take him for a weekly swim ... till the
cat arrived. She didn’t just wander in. She was planted there by the woman who
had moved into Huh-huh’s apartment. He seemed to like being with the woman a
lot, even more than he did being with Jiggs. She wasn’t bad, no, sir. She took
turns with Huh-huh to feed him and walk him and all, but it wasn’t the same
thing any longer. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">She couldn’t
be a <i>friend</i> friend, you see. Jiggs
and Huh-huh, Huh-huh and Jiggs – that had been a great combination. But Huh-huh
was often distracted now, sometimes forgetting to pet Jiggs even though he
wagged his big, bushy tail till it hurt. He no more checked if his pet
was well stocked for the day. Jiggs missed his run around the apartment block,
but it seemed Huh-huh did not, because he went out with the woman instead
nowadays.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">When they
sat down for the meal after dark, they kept holding hands and smooching,
ignoring Jiggs’ dripping tongue that at one time used to attract savouries
throughout dinner. Of course, his bowl was hardly ever empty when he felt like
eating, but previously table time was reserved for treats from Huh-huh. Even
that change was bearable, for when Huh-huh spared time for Jiggs, it was like the good old
days. Jiggs firmly believed that Huh-huh still enjoyed himself more when they were together than
when he was with the woman. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">He would not
have minded the woman so much, had she not brought the cat soon after joining the household. Just as Jiggs had no name for the woman, he refused to
call the cat by any name. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">The cat had
an injured foot when she arrived, so Jiggs was not much concerned about the
intrusion. Once she was back on her four feet, however, there grew a silent hostility
between them. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">The cat was wary of him, and he possessive about his territory. The
woman sensed his discomfort, and demarcated their domains to avert any
disastrous encounters. The dog was free to roam around without a leash when the
woman had to go out and the cat was locked upstairs. On her return, which was always too soon, the
woman would bring the feline down to the ground floor and his freedom was
curtailed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Jiggs began
to resent the way Huh-huh humoured the cat, just because the woman had brought
her. Huh-huh let the cat paw his sofa, his plush rocking chair, the rug next to the
dinner table … wherever the cat wanted to be. He did not remonstrate when the
cat spat or shed her hair – ugh, so much of it!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">What hurt him
most that Huh-huh could not … rather, would not … see how the cat was making
Jiggs’ life miserable. Now the occasional fly could buzz around his wet nose
but he was not free to chase it down. He was chained, that’s why! He could
see a rat scuttle by, but the cat was free to pounce on it and play with it
before killing it, not Jiggs. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Not that Jiggs would kill a rat. Them dirty
creatures were no prey for him, heaven forbid! He had better things to do. Like
barking at strangers who dared to stop by the house, let alone enter it. Like
chasing away the birds that soiled the window sill. Like digging in the garden
to his heart’s content. Like huffing and puffing with a ball or a bone in his mouth and making Huh-huh laugh at his antics.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Sigh! That
was all in the past. Now the windows were no longer open for the birds to flit
in and out. With a cat in the house, Huh-huh had called some men one day to fit the frames with mesh so that the cat did not attack the birds. The cat was so
slender that she could sneak out of the iron gate of the garden, so some mesh
was fixed on it too. Now Jiggs could not see much through either the windows or
the gate. How was he to guard his master’s house?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Why couldn’t
Huh-huh make out what was happening? Jiggs was not exercising enough, he was
becoming ungainly in gait, his coat of hair no longer shone as much, he did not prance
around his master because of the leash, the house was almost unguarded, the cat
kept tipping things over, <i>and </i>she
irritated Jiggs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">As the days
grew colder, Jiggs got more irritable. He longed for the sun, but he was forced
to sit next to the heater most of the day. He began to look
forward to the woman leaving the house, for then the cat was locked up and he
was let off the leash. To feel this way was not good, he knew, but he could not
help it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Today the
woman was away but Huh-huh was at home, and he had let Jiggs roam around
without securing the cat upstairs. Jiggs wanted to make the most of it, tearing
around and generally amusing his master with tricks he had almost forgotten.
But every so often he found the cat in his basket, pulling at his rug or
sniffing at his tin of biscuits. He chased her out each time, sometimes discreetly,
at times with short barks so as not attract Huh-huh’s attention.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Now she
had attacked his favourite bone, and he was not going to let her off lightly.
He had decided she must be smacked, and hard. But Huh-huh appeared in the doorway
just then, and Jiggs braked hard, almost knocking him down. Huh-huh recovered
his balance with some effort, and caught hold of Jiggs by the collar. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">“What’s
gotten into you?” he asked absent-mindedly, patting Jiggs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Jiggs
barked, and licked his master’s feet. Then he bounded out and back in, out and back, hoping
Huh-huh would follow him into the garden. He wanted to lead him to the cat and somehow make
him put her on the leash instead. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Someone entered the gate that Huh-huh had left ajar. He called out to
Huh-huh, but Jiggs dashed out first and was at the intruder’s ankle in a trice,
barking madly. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">The agitated man was
holding the cat in his arms. She was purring and purring. Huh-huh shushed Jiggs
into silence. The two men exchanged some words, and behold! The stranger took
away the cat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Jiggs could
not believe it. Was the cat not coming back? Was he going to have his master
back, all to himself? Had the woman also gone? That was too bad a thought, he chided himself.
But he restlessly followed Huh-huh in. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Jiggs felt
his master was not perturbed that the man had taken the cat with him, and he positively perked up
when Huh-huh gave him his undivided attention after many, many days.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">The woman
was back when the sun was gone. The couple had a long chat, but they did not
tie up Jiggs. He kept to his territory, lest his unexpected freedom drew the
woman’s attention. But she seemed somewhat upset and paid him no heed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">The cat did
not return the next day too. Jiggs relaxed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Soon after,
when Huh-huh and the woman were at home one whole day, the men who had put up the
wire mesh came and took it down from the windows and the gate. Jiggs was now
sure the cat was away for good. He could have an unimpaired view of the road outside again. And the birds would be back too, thank heaven!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">He could live with the woman around. That was a
small price to pay for freedom, Jiggs thought to himself, curling up in his
cosy basket after setting his rug just the way he liked it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
HARJEEThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13206104503390499833noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2715447575519394073.post-87828699912270592012014-02-16T06:54:00.000-08:002014-02-16T06:54:51.619-08:00‘Papa, you kiss him’<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 6pt 0in; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlUP8p4Bw8bl9f6cUEizGQUIbYet2-MyxcMnAzchW1NJxKRDOOPlzMA-CMfrXAvN-iJdWS7BBbZpkhp4bmwb8VC-LHDxy54Jy5HciL8GrPPU1dX8GbE59eYfPRiX1S9l3kemSYuihue7s_/s1600/brooknpeb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></a><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">Jeet
Uncle, who always dresses smartly himself, is surprisingly indulgent
regarding his wife’s fetish for garish pinks and all
shades of red.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.857142448425293px;">I have always liked to watch them, especially Nola Auntie. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">I am not as well versed in the ways of the world,<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>but even I have to admit </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">her</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"> gaudy
magenta <i>salwar kameez</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>suit
complements her rosy cheeks; the cherry red outfit, in which she dazzles with a twinkling red and gold<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>bindi</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> stuck </span>on her forehead, would be difficult for most young women to carry off.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">The
couple lives within walking distance of our house. When they were newly
married, the two would drop in<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>once
or twice a week after dinner. They said it was to look us up, but I suspect
they wanted to spend time together, away from his large family. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">She
was fair, plump, and very girlish when I first saw her. I mean, I was an impressionable 16, and Nola
Auntie, who was </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.857142448425293px;">Mom’s first cousin,</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"> was just 20. She had lived in another
town before her marriage, so we had never met, not even on family occasions.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">I
quite looked forward to their visits, for it was a big change from my dreary
transition from school to college. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">Not
just that, most of our visitors are pretty senior in age. My parents are a
happy-hosting couple, and there is nary a day their friends or sisters or
cousins do not show up – so boring for me. I have few friends nearby, so I stay
indoors mostly.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">Back
to the newly weds. Nola Auntie tended to prattle like a child, but Jeet Uncle was
clearly besotted by her. I eagerly drank in their exchange of romantic looks,
their pleasant banter, and their playful complaints about each other to big
sister, that is, my mother.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlUP8p4Bw8bl9f6cUEizGQUIbYet2-MyxcMnAzchW1NJxKRDOOPlzMA-CMfrXAvN-iJdWS7BBbZpkhp4bmwb8VC-LHDxy54Jy5HciL8GrPPU1dX8GbE59eYfPRiX1S9l3kemSYuihue7s_/s1600/brooknpeb.jpg" height="200" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="180" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Little Kaunu made everyone laugh.<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Digital sketch: Harjeet</i></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">They
would go on tours frequently, which meant Jeet Uncle’s office sent him someplace and Nola
Auntie would accompany him each time.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">I derived a lot of vicarious knowledge
about places I have still not visited, despite having left my teenage years
behind. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">Jeet
Uncle was very good with word sketches, for I could vividly imagine the lush green of the coast down south dotted with the sloping red roofs of mud cottages, or the lights of a merry-go-round in Rajasthan when Nola
Auntie wanted to keep riding a particular wooden horse painted red, white and gold.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">Two
years into their marriage, Nola Auntie decided to get pregnant and was so cool about it. I mean, in my
protected little world, no one could so unashamedly display a swollen belly!
Being with child, Nola Auntie was advised to take a walk every day, so their visits
turned into daily affairs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">Living
in a small house meant I could not be shooed away to a remote corner while the
women discussed morning sickness and baby clothes. So I learnt a lot about
pregnancy and calcium doses, mood swings and hospital visits.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">Jeet
Uncle turned into a harried man obsessed with the health of his wife and their
unborn child. I got rather tired of his endless fuss over blood pressure readings, diet charts, queasiness, doctors’ reports and what not. So it
came as a big relief when Nola Auntie delivered a baby, a boy they named Kaunu. Now life would be
back to its earlier fun years, I thought to myself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">How
naïve could I be! The baby’s arrival changed the couple forever. No, no, Nola
Auntie still dressed in her reds and pinks, Uncle still drooled at the sight of
her. But now there were no travel tales, no romantic banter, only talk of baby,
baby and more baby. Thankfully, the couple could not be at our place as often
as before.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">Instead
of walking, however, they would bring Kaunu on their two-wheeler. I stopped
minding his presence after a while. I guess a child takes to people that its
parents feel happy with. He would extend his
chubby arms towards us and we would coo over him. Soon he learnt to preen himself in
the face of so much adult adulation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">When
little Kaunu learnt to crawl, our house was cleared of all breakable items that
he could possibly pounce upon. He was so much like a family member that we made
minor adjustments in furniture to give him a free run of the house.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">Kaunu
took his first baby steps before our eyes. He uttered his first coherent words in our presence, and we were about as ecstatic as his parents were. His broken
sentences still leave us in splits.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">Though
he is a boy, many of his clothes are red or pink. I have tried to impress on
Nola Auntie a number of times that boys wear green, yellow or blue. I read
somewhere that pinks and reds were meant for girls. But she shuts me up by
saying if that were the case, manufacturers would not be selling red T-shirts
and polo necks and pink shorts and trousers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">I
have yet to come up with a solid counter argument. Kaunu, meanwhile, continues to sport bright red, mauve and pink clothes.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">Last
month, Nola Auntie, much plumper and with even rosier cheeks than when she got married,
waddled in with Kaunu in tow. He was dressed in a pair of crimson trousers
offset by a white shirt but with a red bow. His mother was looking
stunning in a matching crimson sari, her hair stylishly rolled into a bun.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">Jeet
Uncle arrived later with some relatives who were to stay behind with
us. He was taking his wife and son to a party straight from here. When we were
all gathered around Kaunu and encouraging him to say cute, naughty nothings, an
old aunt said teasingly, “Little boy, your mother is looking so lovely. Go kiss
her.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">Kaunu
smartly trundled up to his mom and gave her as sound a buss as a little child
his age could. He turned around, beaming with the satisfaction of a task well
executed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">Next my
mom offered her cheek, and Kaunu obliged. But when my father urged him to
give him a kiss too, he turned to Jeet Uncle and said in a wonderfully steady
voice: “Papa, you kiss him.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">We
all laughed heartily, but Nola Auntie turned as crimson as her sari when the
old aunt remarked tartly: “See! He</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.857142448425293px;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.857142448425293px;">didn’t ask his mom to kiss on his behalf </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.857142448425293px;">… h</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">e’s already a sensible young man.” </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">Oh, really? I thank my stars I did not join in and seek a kiss from the toddler that evening. </span><br />
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
HARJEEThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13206104503390499833noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2715447575519394073.post-53408765139439906352014-02-01T23:06:00.001-08:002014-02-01T23:06:48.085-08:00Reunion on the beach – II<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">“Why did you leave town so abruptly?” Sumedha asked Medha as she pulled her long-lost friend away from a particularly vicious wave that could have swept them out to sea.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">The question that hung between them was now asked, the thin ice broken.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">“You did not feel the need to tell me about the way Mridul was behaving. Souraj told me,” Medha retorted.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRXuVEwyUpfvo6w01qlcU-NhsQC45P_XU2u0Cgf7nZ8n3nQjtNhj09axZuhuLlrQj8wgCLPqaSOTV69FK1kc3iujk65gAd8Iwyxxs01sI2zMJj02g6QyC-wI4hxyvcQHfWGDHQ6-MlavAM/s1600/brooknpeb2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRXuVEwyUpfvo6w01qlcU-NhsQC45P_XU2u0Cgf7nZ8n3nQjtNhj09axZuhuLlrQj8wgCLPqaSOTV69FK1kc3iujk65gAd8Iwyxxs01sI2zMJj02g6QyC-wI4hxyvcQHfWGDHQ6-MlavAM/s1600/brooknpeb2.jpg" height="320" width="283" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">
Their linked hands formed a 'V' against the setting sun.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Digital sketch: Harjeet</i></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">“Did he? He never told me that. </span><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">What could I say to my best friend, my only friend … that her husband drops in way too often?” Sumedha had tears in her eyes.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">“Indeed you should have had the courage to say that to me, your closest friend,” Medha cried. “I was your friend much before I became his wife. That is why I insisted that we shift out, so that I could shield you. I was also ashamed of my husband. I thought we could make a fresh start. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">“But do you know, you were only the first one? Wherever we went, Mridul would see something in another woman that he felt I did not have, and begin to chase her.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">“Oh no, my poor Medha,” Sumedha held her friend’s hand tightly. “I hope he has mended his ways by now.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">“I don’t know. I divorced him three years later,” Medha said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">The pain Sumedha felt was about as intense as her friend’s. The salt that the waves splattered across their faces did not sting their eyes as much as the memory of their days together and the long years of separation. The tears flowed freely. They left the loose, wet sand and headed to a bench.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">The cool breeze made them shiver as they shook their beach sandals free of the sand.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">“So you have been on your own since then?” Sumedha asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">“No,” came the rueful reply. “ You know me, the ever rebellious Medha.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">Sumedha puckered her brow at that. “You are living with someone, but you are not married,” she stated crisply.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">“My, my! Someone’s really up-to-date with trends!” Medha laughed. “Of course you would disapprove of it, though.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">“So you are in a live-in relationship, aren’t you!” Sumedha exclaimed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">“I do live with someone, but our relationship is not a live-in one</span><span style="font-size: 21px; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">,” at last her friend laughed, causing the greying bun at the nape of her neck to wobble somewhat. </span><span style="font-size: 21px; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">“T</span><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">hat someone is a young man who has just completed college. He is my stepson,” said her friend.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">Sumedha seemed nettled. “What? Did you marry again?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">“Yes,” Medha said, adding: “I met this widower at a family get-together. Mitull loved sightseeing and he reminded me of you … same serious nature and sermonizing at the first opportunity; a great one to spend time with. He had a four-year-old son and was all at sea about bringing up the child single-handed. So I joined hands with him,” she chuckled.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">“But we had not known about his weak heart. He left us all last year suddenly,” she added softly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">“Are you happy at all?” Sumedha put an earnest question to her friend.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">“I am at peace and, yes, in many ways, quite happy,” Medha was dead serious now. “My son loves me, he cares if I am down in the dumps, and he sent me here so we could meet.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">“You don’t say! I thought this was just another coincidence, like it was in school,” Sumedha said wonderingly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">“It was well planned and executed, my dear friend. I have known all about you through the years. I know that you changed course and began teaching in a college, that now are a budding educationist in your own right, that Souraj is also a respected academic figure, that you have been lucky to have a husband by your side who gave you free rein … I even know you have two daughters.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">Sumedha was speechless. “You almost shattered my life, walking out without a word, and you have been tracking me all along?” she finally managed to protest.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">“I was true to my friend but not to my friendship, I confess,” Medha said. “It would have been too big a strain to try hiding the truth from you, and too uncomfortable for you to be at ease with Mridul around. So I made a clean break. Your hurt healed with time, but the wound I would have given you could have infected your whole life.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">“Make no mistake, the hurt has not healed. And you did not think you needed a friend when you yourself were going through so much?” Sumedha was almost livid, glancing at Medha</span><span style="font-size: 21px; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">’</span><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">s prematurely lined forehead.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">“I wanted to pick up the threads after Mridul and I parted ways, but I did not want to upset your life when you were blazing a new trail. I decided to keep tabs on you from a safe distance. I read every word written or spoken about you, online, in newspapers, on television. My son also brags about having such an aunt, so what if he has never met her,” Medha smiled.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">“You said your son arranged that we meet?” asked her friend.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">“He aspires to be a professor, like you and Souraj. He has set up a Google alert for me so that I do not miss any mention of you. He assiduously follows your programmes on TV as well. In fact, we watch you together,” Medha told her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">Her eyes brimming with tears, Sumedha egged her on. “Just how did you know I would be here?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">“He said you were coming here to deliver a guest lecture. He booked me into the only five-star hotel this town boasts because he was sure you would stay here. He said it was time we reconnected. Was he right?” Medha asked anxiously.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">Sumedha was crying once more. </span><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">“Indeed he was, silly! I can only say you are blessed to have such a child. We must all meet. Souraj will be beside himself with joy. We often talk about you. My daughters too know all about the Aunty they never met … well, at least what I knew of her till she cut me clean out of her life.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">Medha held her till she stopped sobbing. “God has been kind to both of us. He brought us together once. He has done it again, and surely this time it’s for keeps. Come, we have a lot to catch up with,” she stood up, tugging at Sumedha’s hand.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">“I have thanked God daily for all he has given me, and always prayed that you were happy wherever you were,” Sumedha said. “I had no friend when you came into my life. You taught me to live, and with dignity. For the first time in years, today I feel God has blessed me with a complete life ... my family, and my true friend.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 21px; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 21px; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">As the </span><span style="font-size: 21px; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">reunited soulmates</span><span style="font-size: 21px; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;"> walked to their hotel, </span><span style="font-size: 21px; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">their linked hands seemed to form </span><span style="font-size: 21px; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">a </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">‘</span><span style="font-size: 21px; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">V</span><span style="font-size: 21px; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">’</span><span style="font-size: 21px; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;"> sign against the setting sun.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 21px; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-size: 21px; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;"><i>Concluded</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 21px; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
HARJEEThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13206104503390499833noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2715447575519394073.post-39768421186480796362014-01-26T11:01:00.000-08:002014-01-26T11:01:21.053-08:00Reunion on the beach – I<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">They stood silently by the seaside, shoulders close but not
touching. There was no need for words. The lapping of the waters at their feet
said so much in unspoken communion. </span><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">They had both wandered onto the beach and come face to face, meeting </span><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">after nearly 20 years. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">First it was school, then
college, where they were known to be inseparable companions. Their classmates would joke: “Look for one, find the
other one free.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmIiqCDVmH7lkcejYUf4YLdLz9ka4G-rd_7XvGrMkNyYrzGXb6BkSF3wyh530vjMA-UXwvtBnYpGmP7aXBiyTaBtd-KaWDF6LIJZv_z-22MgEXpGwG-CZoXRNU0HpZj2tbL6PzpcBLkRfS/s1600/brooknpeb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmIiqCDVmH7lkcejYUf4YLdLz9ka4G-rd_7XvGrMkNyYrzGXb6BkSF3wyh530vjMA-UXwvtBnYpGmP7aXBiyTaBtd-KaWDF6LIJZv_z-22MgEXpGwG-CZoXRNU0HpZj2tbL6PzpcBLkRfS/s1600/brooknpeb.jpg" height="320" width="228" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">
Two old friends reunite on the beach. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Digital sketch: Harjeet</i></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Medha and Sumedha … a wonderful coincidence had brought them
together in class. From the moment their teacher called out their names during
roll call, they felt they were meant to be friends, forever bound by their
names. Soon they discovered that their tastes matched, and their likes and dislikes were equally strong. They looked unbelievably similar too. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Medha had joined the school when her family shifted to the metro Sumedha had been born and grown up in. To Medha, urban life was something
to marvel at; for Sumedha, it was a boring routine with oh-so-familiar sights
and sounds. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">A mutual need sprang up between them. Medha longed for a life
she had not seen before, while Sumedha pined for companionship. She was
the youngest of five children, whose ageing parents were struggling to keep ailments
and financial troubles at bay. They had little time for her, as did her four
brothers who were grappling with their own manhood issues. The youngest of them was eight years
her senior. Their huge age gap made her a sister they would much rather not have
had, and a liability they grudgingly had to protect.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Sumedha was timid by nature, but Medha was carefree and fun-loving.
They were such a perfect foil for each other that the days melted into months
and years, but their friendship stood the test of time. When Medha’s family moved to another
town, she stayed back in a hostel to complete her graduation. Being with Medha had helped
Sumedha shed most of her reserve, while her friend had at last acquired some tact. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">As their college days drew to an end, their respective families
began hunting for bridegrooms for them. Oblivious of these plans, the two
friends were busy mapping out career possibilities for themselves. Sumedha was
keen on teaching, but Medha wanted to enter the travel trade. When Sumedha
told her parents she wanted to take up B.Ed., they were horrified. All her
brothers were by now married and settled, and their wives were happy
homemakers. “How had she imagined she would be allowed to work?” they wondered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Sumedha wanted a life of her own, one in which she had a say.
This was a big change from the girl who would not utter a word at home. Her
family began to resent Medha, firm in the belief that she had set Sumedha on
this rebellious path.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">But Medha had similar problems with her own family. They would
not hear of further studies, least of all a course where she would end up travelling
on her own. And they blamed Sumedha for infecting Medha with this travel bug …
Sumedha, who had never stepped out of the city! “Yes, but she has spoilt you
too with her sightseeing tours and bargain hunting,” came the unreasonable retort.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Sumedha was used to living without much money, but Medha was
luckier. She was often rash in her deeds, but very prudent when it came to
spending. Thus she had built a neat pile of savings in her bank account. Medha had
not thought such an exigency would arise, but now she used the money to pay for admission to her hospitality course and for the small fee needed
to get Sumedha into B.Ed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Both families were aghast at the girls’ boldness. Each
thought the other was stoking the rebellion, but neither was willing to accept
that their daughters had matured into young women who knew their own minds.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">As luck would have it, the families could not find eligible
bridegrooms in time to stop the girls from launching into their postgraduate
studies. Now that Medha and Sumedha had to part ways to pursue their respective
careers, they met rarely but kept in touch over the phone. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">The first to fall in love was Sumedha. This departure from tradition
came as yet another shock to her family, but the young professor who had set
her heart alight managed to win over her family as well. They were married as
soon as Sumedha completed the one-year course.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Medha was very happy for her only friend, who was now pursuing a master</span><span style="font-size: 21px; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">’s degree</span><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">. She managed to find time </span><span style="font-size: 21px; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">to</span><span style="font-size: 21px; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;"> </span><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">occasionally drop in at
Sumedha’s new home. They were a cool threesome: Medha, Sumedha and Sumedha’s
husband Souraj.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">A fourth person soon joined them in the shape of Mridul, Medha’s
husband, whom she had first met at a travel conference. But the party broke up within
months when Mridul began showing up too often at Sumedha’s place, sometimes
without his wife being aware of it. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Souraj objected to it, but poor Sumedha did
not have the courage to turn Mridul away for fear of offending her friend’s
husband. She was certainly not the timid schoolgirl of yore, but she still
lacked the steel to tick off Mridul. </span><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Souraj finally stepped in and asked Medha to rein in her husband. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">It struck her like a thunderbolt. She confronted Mridul, who blandly
confessed he had developed a liking for Sumedha’s quiet disposition. It shook
her to the core, but she did not have the heart to let her friend know why she began shying away from taking her calls or visiting her. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">With things now out in the open, Mridul
could not as nonchalantly walk into Souraj’s home. The chasm between Medha and
Mridul also began to widen. M</span><span style="font-size: 21px; line-height: 24.533334732055664px;">eanwhile, </span><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Sumedha began to sicken, and Souraj had a
tough time keeping her spirits up as he tried to fill the vacuum created by prolonged
spells of Medha’s absence from her life.</span><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; text-align: center;"><i>More next week</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
HARJEEThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13206104503390499833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2715447575519394073.post-67802969890561583862012-12-31T07:54:00.001-08:002012-12-31T07:54:44.644-08:00A tribute to Damini<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>The author was on a sabbatical this month, so the long gap. </i></span></b><br />
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Though hoping to end the year on a cheerful note, it would be more fitting perhaps to help in any small way to make the world safer for the girl child, the woman, the mother, sister and the wife ... I would like to contribute my mite to the debate on dealing with rapacious men who have a free run of the country, it seems. Months ago, I wrote this on another blogsite, which never got around to enable its publication. Though I wrote it long back, it remains as painfully relevant, perhaps more. This is equally a tribute to the late Damini, who met with such an unnecessary, tragic end:</i></span></b><br />
<br />
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.898469808511436" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">THOUGHTS ON ROLE OF SOCIETY IN PREVENTION OF RAPE</span><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">An animated debate took place recently on television on the effect of TV serials on family lives, girls in particular. One participant pointed out that girls were getting wary of marriage into joint families. The reason: an overdose of intrigues by women in such households and the tyrannical ways of mothers-in-law shown in these serials.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But rape is surely an even more serious issue. There are a number of Hindi serials currently dealing with this matter too. One disturbing serial centres on an incurable lecher, a habitual rapist who does not spare even family. Another is dealing quite insensitively with a rape and its aftermath that includes overt and covert jibes by neighbours and relatives, among other things. It remains to be seen how they pan out eventually.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The victim’s state of mind is one concern. Punishing the rapist is another. For society at large, however, the bigger issue must be how to curb this most inhuman of crimes.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Our social fabric is wearing thin. Rape, incest and other types of sexual abuse are not new to society. They did happen even a hundred years ago – indeed, all through the ages. What is worrying is the rapid spread of sexual abuse, and our near-incapacity to curb it, in terms of collective will. We are becoming inured to reports of rape and assault in newspapers and on television. We are accepting that the crime will mostly go unpunished, or dealt with lightly, if at all.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As a society we are countenancing it nonchalantly. We do not worry on reading that what is reported may be a fraction of the actual number of incidents occurring every day. There could be many more instances where the victims are threatened into silence, or too traumatized, or even unaware of the criminality of what is being done to them. And often the perpetrators are known to them: people who ideally should be protective of them, who teach them, live, study or work with them, who should be trustworthy.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Then there are the predators who stalk and pounce on a whim, or rape out of a sense of power, or even avenge a perceived wrong committed by someone else.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A murderer takes away a life, but a rapist assaults not only the victim’s body but also her spirit. Both types are equally culpable, and neither deserves leniency. Recent reports on Supreme Court rulings (</span><span style="font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Supreme Court rules, no corroboration required in rape cases</span><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">: DNA, October 11, 2011; </span><span style="font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Rape case: life term to father, brother upheld</span><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">: The Hindu, July 10, 2011) are reassuring, but justice needs to be swiftly delivered, in every case. However, in a case filed in 2007, the Delhi high court has awarded just seven years’ rigorous imprisonment for a crime committed on the victim over three traumatic years (</span><span style="font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Priest gets 7-yr RI for rape</span><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">: The Times of India, April 4, 2012). </span><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">News agency Reuters reported from Rome: “According to some estimates, only 5 per cent of rape victims in Italy report the crime to police” (</span><span style="font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Critics outraged at Italian court’s rape ruling</span><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, Asian Age, February 3, 2012). The percentage is that low in a so-called developed western society; imagine the situation in a country such as ours, where for many mothers it is still anathema to discuss even menstrual issues with their daughters, where “name and honour” is paramount for their families. Surely rapists who escape punishment far, far outnumber those convicted.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Even if the victim were courageous enough to fight for justice, the system and the law, aided by a male-dominated society, go easy on the offender. Families of victims are bribed or simply intimidated into silence. How to bring justice to a ravished woman?</span><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This may sound too radical, capital punishment may be perceived as too harsh, but every rapist deserves not less than a life sentence at least, non-commutable. The most severe punishment is reserved for the “rarest of rare” cases, but every single rape ought to be treated as such. Can there be any extenuating circumstances for such an abominable deed?</span><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">What gave him pleasure once can return to prompt the rapist into a repeat act any time again. Are even his own womenfolk safe from him any more? Can we afford to trust again someone who did not think of the lifelong effect of his heinous act on his victim?</span><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It can never spring from a spontaneous thought, because he has forced himself on someone. This scourge of easy targeting of women has to be gotten rid of. Man or woman, you cannot deny the lurking tension till your daughter, sister, wife or mother return safe to the sanctuary of your home.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The 1988 movie </span><span style="font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Zakhmi Aurat</span><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, aired recently on television, made a case for the same punishment that a woman judge recently advocated – bobbitise the rapist. And then let him roam free, now to commit a different crime to vent his frustration?</span><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">While we hope another Kalpana Chawla is growing up in our midst or more Indra Nooyis will head big corporations, a queer situation is developing on the ground. As more women come out to study, to work, to breathe more easily away from hearth-bound routines, to contribute meaningfully to society, they still find themselves in peril – from an ever-growing number of potential abusers. Find a woman who can claim she has never been groped, whistled or leered at, or not borne insinuating remarks at the very least. The more they strive to live life on their own terms, the more they are vulnerable to men looking to feed their lust on.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And because it is difficult to keep the predators’ abundant testosterone in check, women are told to avoid travelling alone, working late, venturing out after sundown with or without male escorts. Indeed, they must stop going out altogether to escape inevitable assault.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Some men wage a battle so that girls are not killed. Fathers put their lifetime’s savings at their daughters’ disposal so they can get educated, make a mark for themselves. Unfortunately, there are unscrupulous men prowling about, too, waiting to vanquish in body and spirit some man<b id="internal-source-marker_0.898469808511436" style="font-size: medium; font-weight: normal; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">’</span></b>s beloved daughter, some man<b id="internal-source-marker_0.898469808511436" style="font-size: medium; font-weight: normal; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">’</span></b>s beloved sister.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And these perpetrators are a confident lot. Those who spring to the defence of women are amply warned off, time and again. How many of us, for instance, remember Mumbai boys Keenan and Rueben, killed because they tried to stop eve-teasers?</span><br /><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The assailants may be mentally sick or maybe hardened criminals, but the loopholes that help them elude punishment must be plugged. And there should be the fear of imprisonment until death. Nothing less seems deterrent enough. The Supreme Court has rightly remarked on the “emotional injury” inflicted on a rape victim (Asian Age, cited above). That injury never heals. It is the responsibility of society to ensure that no one dare inflict such an injury.</span></b><br />
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></b></div>
HARJEEThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13206104503390499833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2715447575519394073.post-37216647220972166672012-11-26T04:49:00.000-08:002012-11-26T04:49:43.556-08:00The sari connection<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Palakkad. It was the first name that sprang into Subhadra’s
mind.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Palakkad,” she told her inquisitor, tired of avoiding a reply. The young man had been
grilling her for some minutes now. .</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Seriously? In which state is that?” Sunjiv asked, uncertainty
clearly written on his brow.<br />
Subhadra decided to take a chance. “Kerala,” she told
him rashly, making a mental note to check it on Internet the moment his back
was turned.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sunjiv worked in the HR department, and sat in a cabin
opposite to hers, at the far end of the big hall. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBnuYo5D5KatETx6htiH6BlZhwhMmr71WX8YLIC3FqsHVZ2VwlyQQEVW88wVmT91BLkE9zu-w5MzaQhmmXU6aC6i8rL375kxArf3Cwh-XSZCdcvd1Wa-MSuPCTqm69sSOWiKHm7UQgG7Re/s1600/Subhadra.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBnuYo5D5KatETx6htiH6BlZhwhMmr71WX8YLIC3FqsHVZ2VwlyQQEVW88wVmT91BLkE9zu-w5MzaQhmmXU6aC6i8rL375kxArf3Cwh-XSZCdcvd1Wa-MSuPCTqm69sSOWiKHm7UQgG7Re/s200/Subhadra.jpg" width="142" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Subhadra in a sari.<br /><div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Digital sketch: Harjeet</i></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Once he heard her speak into the phone in impeccable
Punjabi, and sauntered across to her table on some pretext. He began a casual chat on a small office matter. Soon she got
used to making small talk with him. They conversed in English, always, till one
day he dropped a line in Punjabi and she replied in the same language. He
seized the opportunity swiftly.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Are you a Punjabi?” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The cocky lad should have seen it coming, but did not.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh no, how could you think that of me?” she pouted,
sounding offended.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The young man fumbled for words. “I wondered how you could
be, but the other day you were talking quite fluently in Punjabi. So …”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So, are you an Englishman by the same criterion?” she retorted.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“N-no, I always thought you were from <st1:place w:st="on">Bengal</st1:place>.
Now you say you are from Kerala.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Why, do I look like a Bengali?” She was beginning to enjoy pulling his leg.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sunjiv was positively squirming now.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She wore such a diverse range of saris that it was difficult
to tell which part of the country she came from, he explained.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You mean to say I should not be wearing saris? Or only one
type of sari? Or only <i>salwar kameez</i>? Perhaps western suits? I had no idea you kept such a sharp
eye on what women wear,” Subhadra said, ragging him more. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Actually, the variety you wear is so wide, we often discuss
it,” Sunjiv blurted, now profusely apologetic.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We? Who else is tracking what I wear?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Don’t take it otherwise, please,” Sunjiv begged. “Banjyot
in my department and I often talk about the way you glide into office in your
crisp sari. You don’t circulate much, but whenever you do talk to someone you
sound very pleasant,” he coloured deeply as he defended himself.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Is that such a bad thing?” she asked him, picking on him.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“N-no, ma’am, it’s not that. We fell into this habit of
betting on what colour of sari you would come in.”<br />
“That’s not done,” Subhadra frowned. “You lay bets on such trivial issues?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Believe me, ma’am, it’s all healthy and with no money
involved.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She pretended to be annoyed now. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“How is it anyone’s business what I wear to work?” she
demanded. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But that’s exactly what we mean,” he sounded almost
deferential. “It’s a pleasure to behold you … business-like, professional,
self-contained, and — and tastefully dressed. That is all, ma’am, I assure
you,” Sunjiv was almost babbling. “That is how we came to wonder which part of
the country you came from. It’s entirely harmless talk, ma’am. No offence
whatsoever, ma’am.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Subhadra decided to let up the pressure a bit.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She made him sit down, and called for coffee. Soon the talk
veered round to the sari she was wearing that day. It was Sambalpuri,
from Orissa, she told him.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Later, she accompanied Sunjiv to Banjyot’s cabin, at last
making a friend in her office, indeed, two friends.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Banjyot was a Punjabi, too, like Sunjiv. She had little
knowledge of saris, being more inclined towards western attire. The trio shared
some light moments over the episode and then headed back to their respective
desks.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Subhadra’s saris helped cement the friendship. Sometimes she
told the duo how she had picked out a particular colour combination. Sometimes
her new friends tried to guess the type of silk used in her sari. Almost every sari
had a story behind it: how Subhadra’s husband had pulled out a particularly
striking one from a heap of silks in a South Indian shop, how husband and wife
ended up buying the same shade of rust at separate stalls, and so on.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A few weeks later, Subhadra decided to tell Banjyot the
truth about herself, but waited for a good occasion to tell Sunjiv.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He was quizzing her about her husband one day: “How did you decide
to marry a Punjabi?” “How come you are so fluent in the language?” “Does your
husband speak Bangla?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Humouring him, she said: “We met at a seminar, and clicked.”
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Just like that?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, it took some effort on his part convincing me,” she
smiled naughtily.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sunjiv was clearly bent on romanticizing her so-called affair.
She embellished her story with nonsensical tales of the
courtship. She said her family hailed from Kerala but she was born in Bengal
and studied in <st1:city w:st="on">Delhi</st1:city>.
Sunjiv seemed to lap it all up … how she had scorned her husband’s advances at first
but secretly admired him from day one; how he turned up at her doorstep every
other day; how they dated for two whole years. Wide-eyed, he exclaimed, “Ah!
Sir must really have fallen for you.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At one stage, she could no longer hold back her mirth: “Silly, I am a born Punjabi and had an arranged marriage! Within
months.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I don’t believe you, ma’am,” Sunjiv said indignantly.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You spun a romantic web about my marriage, and I led you on
because you were so hung on it,” she replied. “It’s just that I’m a
cosmopolitan Indian woman. My husband and I share this love for all types of saris.
It helps that I have a non-Punjabi look, which fooled you. I just played along,
man,” she replied. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sunjiv’s bewilderment gave way to a sheepish grin when he
realized how his runaway imagination had invited an elaborate joke on himself.<br />
<br /></div>
</div>
HARJEEThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13206104503390499833noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2715447575519394073.post-24305051938996709102012-11-19T07:25:00.004-08:002012-11-19T07:25:57.974-08:00Tastie Toast Café<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge6nTBsihUShFbuz5fAN6MyPc52yNHRaqxYv8aAtOtIBWgPsMR6c30Hy3dINmy4p-dhjrx8SszcYJM7wuvN5ezhCERSJpjuk_ETb0yyrQQbGNS0jFFeaL82HPJ3fOTak0ZjoTsoLAOxnbb/s1600/Tastie+Toast+Cafe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge6nTBsihUShFbuz5fAN6MyPc52yNHRaqxYv8aAtOtIBWgPsMR6c30Hy3dINmy4p-dhjrx8SszcYJM7wuvN5ezhCERSJpjuk_ETb0yyrQQbGNS0jFFeaL82HPJ3fOTak0ZjoTsoLAOxnbb/s320/Tastie+Toast+Cafe.jpg" width="227" /></a>Honee worked at Tastie Toast Café. He attended two-hour
morning classes at the slumside tent, then scampered off to the bus station for
his 9.20 a.m. ride to the city centre.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The café was famous for its black tea and black coffee, but
most of all for its Tastie Toast. All six working days of the week, the owner
kneaded the dough with his own hands and prepared the stuffing five times a day
to get that perfect taste into his unique patty. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The whole staff – that is, Honee, Bindi and Mandra – had
become good friends. Their work bound them closer than any Fevicol could, Honee
mused. After all, they worked sort of butt-to-butt in the tiny kitchen at the
back of the café. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It hadn’t always been such a tight squeeze, but the cafe’s growing popularity had
forced the boss to make more space for his customers and push the kitchen wall
closer to the back. As a result, they had to lightly shove each other by their
backsides to move in or out of the kitchen. It was dicey, manoeuvring with
trays and steaming mugs balanced on each palm. Like today.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Coming, saarrr!” Honee replied in a singsong tone when the perpetually drunk
Bear called out a third time for his Tastie Toast.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Bear” was their nickname for the grumpy, bearded man who
lurched in every morning, his cap dangling down one ear and spiky hair
shining in the sun. He slumped into the corner by the big glass window, ate
Tastie Toasts and drank till he was sozzled.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Another regular was the “Dream”. Some years back she used to wear skimpy blouses and flared pants tied high on her waist. Now she had put
on weight and wore tight, ill-fitting tops with skirts or pants that did not
match. She loved Tastie Toast Café even more than her cigarettes. Once she was
inside the café, she wolfed down Tastie Toasts and had black coffee laced
with a drink she poured from the tiny flask ever-present in her huge purse. She
did not smoke except on her way out. Boss served her himself,
preparing Tastie Toasts in quick succession so that her plate was never empty.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyCoKqWhxFvLMvwEywpmv-PE-jop2tgJbajvbL9nZRMELNwfWD38Tw09pdmDZcj82MSlVKZ6nCm99_YXTbsN7DSjsVtXM9ewODBbKs25o-DQOceHGT_fqN6cAnOg84tZjmuCPYHN1TO0I5/s1600/Tastie+Toast.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="128" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyCoKqWhxFvLMvwEywpmv-PE-jop2tgJbajvbL9nZRMELNwfWD38Tw09pdmDZcj82MSlVKZ6nCm99_YXTbsN7DSjsVtXM9ewODBbKs25o-DQOceHGT_fqN6cAnOg84tZjmuCPYHN1TO0I5/s200/Tastie+Toast.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tastie Toast on a tray.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbt9-Prs2CZwOwdl7_odYbv4oOsqQ1cM3tOu5SnnxkXsr1aBEYxHVgciYxUI4yUTMUKdfazTY8_oCJ_EmqGpVLJGQ1skCUajS5rPc5eERdYm2htzSNueBOA6ZNMkG1T4yEGFwXOZtdZ1Uy/s1600/black+coffee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbt9-Prs2CZwOwdl7_odYbv4oOsqQ1cM3tOu5SnnxkXsr1aBEYxHVgciYxUI4yUTMUKdfazTY8_oCJ_EmqGpVLJGQ1skCUajS5rPc5eERdYm2htzSNueBOA6ZNMkG1T4yEGFwXOZtdZ1Uy/s200/black+coffee.jpg" width="199" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The black coffee was a hot favourite.<br /><i style="text-align: right;">Digital sketches: Harjeet</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Honee’s personal favourite was the “Cane”, a quiet old man
with thick eyebrows. Short and stout, he walked with a cane, his head erect,
and always landed up at 11 sharp for a cup of tea with milk, a Tastie Toast and
a cookie. Then he would strut to his office hard by. It seemed he had no cook
at home because after work hours, he dropped in for two Tastie Toasts and one mug of black coffee. After that, he walked out in the opposite direction, to the bus
station.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cane’s friend was of middling height, sporting a moustache.
He usually darted in 15-20 minutes after Cane, whispered some secrets perhaps,
and scuttled off before Cane had finished his cookie. It was done in clockwork
precision. But Honee had not been able to establish if Cane and “Moustache” worked
in the same office.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Bear interrupted Honee’s reverie: “Boy, what are you
dreaming about? Where’s my toast today?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Honee looked around. He had unwittingly put down the Tastie Toast at Cane’s table. Swiftly retrieving the plate, he muttered a soft “Sorry, saar”
and shot back into the kitchen.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cane was fidgety today, and to top it Honee had delayed his
order. Mandra was poised at the door, and passed on a tray.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Quick,” he hissed to Honee, who darted back to where Cane
was sitting.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Here, saar!” he panted as he put down the tray. “The other
saar is not coming today? All well, saar?” he asked.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No, he hasn’t come in, and I’m worried,” Cane replied. “I
hope he is well.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“He will be fine, saar,” Honee said reassuringly.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This was Honee’s longest conversation with any customer. His
boss did not encourage small talk. He philosophized that rich people were best
left alone. Serve them well, and earn your living. Stay out of their hair, and
they won’t bother you. “It’s that or your job. I don’t want trouble in any
form,” the boss would often say.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But today Honee felt impelled to ask more. So, undaunted, he
prodded Hero for more information.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“My friend lives all alone, just like me,” Cane said.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So I was right about him,” Honee thought. Aloud, he asked
if he could be of any help.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’ll let you know,” a distracted Cane replied.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Honee fretted all day, waiting for Cane to come in before
they shut shop. The boss had to pull him up twice for not paying attention to
his work. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cane did not turn up that evening. Honee felt concerned. Mandra
had left early, so Honee told Bindi about it when they were scrubbing the
floor. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Downing the shutter, they noticed a lone light in the
building next door where Cane worked. Climbing two steps at a time, they gained the glass door in a trice. Cane was sitting alone, staring at his typewriter. They
roused him, and guided him down the stairs. Bindi stood guard by him while
Honee clambered back to lock up the office. They offered to escort him home, but Cane
shook his head determinedly.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They decided to trail him. He wound up three
or four lanes later at what was probably his friend’s place.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They waited in the shadows. Cane was back in five minutes, his
shoulders shaking. Honee made bold to step forward. “All well, saar?” he asked
for the second time that day. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I could never have guessed!” Cane had been laughing
silently, and did not bother to ask the young men what they were doing there.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That woman who comes in to drink liquor with her coffee
proposed to him yesterday. He’s so scared he’s holed up since, ha-ha!” Cane
said gleefully.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He was referring to the Dream. That much Honee could figure, but he had not seen her and the middle-aged Moustache exchanging a word. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cane said the two worked in the same office, and she had
been chasing Moustache for some time. He would leave for the café the moment she
entered office, pour out his agony to Cane. Somehow, that fortified him for the rest of the day. Today, however, she had waylaid him, and proposed. He ran off and
had since been hiding in his one-room tenement.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“He doesn’t like her?” Honee asked curiously.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“He does, but he’s scared of her ex, the one who
sits in that corner in your café,” Cane told them.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Her ex?” they exclaimed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, they went around a bit. Though she broke off the affair, he does
not let anyone near her,” Cane explained. “He is a violent drunkard, and
my friend won’t risk offending him.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“They can complain to the police, or get married and go to a
new place. Why are they spoiling their lives for a drunken man?” Honee said
with naïve wisdom. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It’s not easy to change jobs, and anyway he has never
discussed it with her. He’s too scared of him,” Cane told them as they walked
to the bus station.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“He won’t be around too long,” Honee assured Cane lightly, leaving
him wondering.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Honee went straight to his teacher’s house in the slum, and
told him about Moustache and the Dream. He asked if there was a way to get rid
of Bear. The teacher said the café owner could complain about his drinking. But
Bear had been doing that for so long without creating a scene! “So you create
one,” the teacher suggested.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Three days later, Cane was beaming at the corner where Bear
usually sat, for Moustache and the Dream sat holding hands there.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And Bear? He had been taken away by the police for drinking in
public and threatening to kill some youth harmlessly indulging in Tastie
Toast at the café. Bear had actually brandished an evil-looking knife drawn from his pouch! It had been touch and go.<br />
The plan was carried out so smoothly that no one suspected
the young men came from a slum, dressed in their Sunday best for the occasion, and there
at Honee’s behest.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Honee could not stop grinning all day. The Dream had for the first
time taken her coffee neat, without drawing out that flask from her bag.<br />
<br /></div>
</div>
HARJEEThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13206104503390499833noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2715447575519394073.post-73996447384468807482012-11-01T04:37:00.000-07:002012-11-01T04:37:00.523-07:00When Stuti met Dhwani<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Their biology teacher had asked the children to separate the
different parts of the flowers on their desks. When Ma’am called out “Sepals”,
they were supposed to hold up the sepals; then the petals or stamens or ovary.
Stuti could not bring herself to ruin her cute purple flower, though her
classmates were doing just that.</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhb2-7s3hnABmt4M7Xp_94dXNbN5ibVb8wlx5TSseXCADMKWvdZCzmRKuR0dCS0EPhG1iaBEnLVU4FvG0AHiNJNSbNDNOj9nFNQTNURgLy-cPwxBXKW2Av0SnaVN3cIo9grBDxQaDN8fzt/s1600/stuti+and+dhwani.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhb2-7s3hnABmt4M7Xp_94dXNbN5ibVb8wlx5TSseXCADMKWvdZCzmRKuR0dCS0EPhG1iaBEnLVU4FvG0AHiNJNSbNDNOj9nFNQTNURgLy-cPwxBXKW2Av0SnaVN3cIo9grBDxQaDN8fzt/s200/stuti+and+dhwani.jpg" width="142" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Winning pair Stuti & Dhwani.<br /><div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Digital sketch: Harjeet</i></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The boy sitting next to her nudged her: “What are you
waiting for?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She shook her head silently. When her turn came, she stood
up, held up the full flower and pointed to the stamens nonchalantly. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Why did you not pull the flower apart?” Ma’am asked.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I want to keep it this way.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ma’am decided to overlook it, for there was no gainsaying
Stuti.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The child was so sensitive and self-assured. She was also
very responsible and helpful, willing to fetch and carry study materials for
her teachers, sharing her tiffin with her class fellows or setting their school
ties right as they poured into the assembly hall.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Indeed, Stuti was the talking point among her teachers. What
spooked them was Stuti’s total lack of self-consciousness. She did exactly what
she wanted, when she wanted, how she wanted. The physics teacher often
recounted the incident of the pencil. A boy in the front row had come to school without a pencil. Stuti did not wait
for Sir to ask if anybody would lend the boy a pencil. She rose from her chair as
Sir began scolding him, passed on the pencil and was back at her seat
without a word.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The English teacher had another tale to share. Stuti came to
the rescue of four or five children who could not fill in the blanks, turn by
turn. While they shuffled on their feet and stammered, she just uttered just
one letter that made it easy to guess the word. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No amount of persuasion or harsh words could deter Stuti if
she thought she was doing the right thing. She was just about 14, but her demeanour
was one of a peaceful sage. Not for her the typical tricks that children play
on each other; no antics, no teasing. Her soft “Good morning” shamed her
naughtiest classmates into returning the greeting. Pranksters kept away from her.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Every morning, Stuti wiped her desk with a piece of flannel
she pulled out from her bag. Then she would lay out her books period-wise
inside the desk, pencils and rubber to one side. She
never forgot to bring the right books, her pen never ran out of ink and she
always had a rubber and sharpened pencil at hand. She submitted her assignments
on time and she also topped in class, invariably.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The teachers noticed that the rest of the class stood in awe
of her. They knew it was not fair, but they could not resist shifting a recalcitrant
child next to her. The child would be miraculously reformed. Stuti never
exerted herself or imposed her will on them; they just submitted to it. She
could do no wrong, unlike them. She did not scramble out of class, she did not
push or shove, she never stuffed her books into her bag anyhow and rush out
when the bell rang. Her placid manners won her admirers, but she was friends
with none. Rather, all were wary of befriending her.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That did not seem to bother her. She lived in a world of her
own. Her teachers brought up the subject with her parents, who said she behaved
exactly like that at home as well. She was a loving child, but kept to herself.
All efforts to draw her out were in vain, they said.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Stuti’s well-organized world went topsy turvy with the
arrival of Dhwani. The new girl in her class was as noisy as Stuti was quiet.
She was a tomboy, playing a prank on the unsuspecting math teacher the very day
she joined. She banged her desk shut, scraped her chair loudly, and merrily nicknamed
her classmates by their looks.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One was dubbed “Mr Hairy”, another was called “Miss Curly
Hair”, yet another “Mr Broad Shoulders” and so on, but somehow the ebullient Dhwani could not fathom Stuti.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The tall Stuti just walked up to her when Ma’am introduced
her to the class, shook her by the hand and said: “Hi, I’m Stuti. I sit in the
second-last row.” No other child in the class had done that. It was not the
norm, anywhere. And Ma’am had not blinked.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She determined to try breaking “The Silence”. Yes, Dhwani decided,
that would be her name for the enigmatic girl beside whom she was made to sit
the very next day. She refused to be intimidated by Stuti’s orderliness and
self-contained bearing.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dhwani would sing loudly during lunch break, exhorting the
others to join in. She would play pass-the-parcel with a greasy lunch box, wipe
her hands on her skirt, empty her bag onto the desk if she couldn’t find a book
– and the class was loving it. She was normal. They flocked around her, enjoyed
her silly antics and generally became a livelier lot.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Stuti watched apprehensively. She did not grudge Dhwani her
boisterousness, but she could not digest such lack of restraint either. She did
not want to be seen as stuck-up, but she couldn’t join in.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Being deskmates, they had to spend a lot of time together.
So one day when Dhwani left her rough notebook at home, she sheepishly accepted
the sheets Stuti handed out from her own notebook without being asked. Dhwani sprang to
massage Stuti’s foot when her chair toppled down on it. And
when they knocked their heads trying to shoo away a lost-looking frog from under their twin
desk, they shared a hearty laugh.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The teachers could see the change in the two girls. They
compared notes in their common room on the pair of complementary role models in
the making. One was opening up to the world around
her, the other was getting tamed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Stuti was not as stand-offish now. She could make shy
conversations of more than one syllable. She even played the parcel game with Dhwani,
whose lunch box was no longer grubby. Dhwani did not slam her desk or screech like
a parrot during lunch hour any more, and moderated her jokes that Stuti was
beginning to smile at. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The companionship was sealed the day the girls won an
inter-school debate. They had independently signed up to represent the school
in a declamation contest, in which they had to think on their feet, be on the
same wavelength and bond well to take on the competition. The topic: “Who comes
first – friends, or me?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The usually pushy Dhwani hung back, allowing the once-reticent Stuti to
step forward and receive the trophy, and to make an elegant acceptance speech
on behalf of them both. There was a loud cheer backstage. Only their classmates
and teachers knew it was more in celebration of a newfound friendship.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
HARJEEThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13206104503390499833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2715447575519394073.post-26999651818849303682012-10-26T02:46:00.000-07:002012-10-26T02:46:25.331-07:00Red Riding Hood & Prince Charming: A love story<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ribha held out the faded red garment for her twin Rishu to
see. “A red riding hood!” he exclaimed.
The 13-year-olds loved to live out the stories they’d grown up with.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They were rummaging through their grandparents’ old
suitcases stacked up in the attic with a slanting roof. It had been years since
they had come over for a long vacation, and wanted to do all that the kids in their
story books did – go on wild adventures, hunt up treasures, play war games with
painted faces, munch Grandmom’s delicacies under a lazy picnic sun, and much
more.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Their grandparents lived in a rambling mansion beside a hill.
In their city home in <st1:country -region="-region" w:st="on">India</st1:country>,
this was not possible. Here, though, the stories came alive. The kids chased each
other around trees, ambushing and attacking unsuspecting thieves, catching
imaginary poachers, pouncing on marauding animals out to destroy their
grandparents’ corn fields, and much more.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So if Red Riding Hood hung around here, they figured they
needed a wolf as well.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They sped down to the living room. </div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqAXr8Yo3giFqJLFi46z6djRqRvqQb3pPiWCY3rIWxW4_y1HLdatm0ttH_3_dKChnEULQGXR1IyfkOisaNA2DHVWm-uQ5s1VhamijH4HYqdNNeHtcOCyKYDQs5-t4ecVljFw1fQU1jf1hY/s1600/The+twins+Ribha+n+Rishu.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="142" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqAXr8Yo3giFqJLFi46z6djRqRvqQb3pPiWCY3rIWxW4_y1HLdatm0ttH_3_dKChnEULQGXR1IyfkOisaNA2DHVWm-uQ5s1VhamijH4HYqdNNeHtcOCyKYDQs5-t4ecVljFw1fQU1jf1hY/s200/The+twins+Ribha+n+Rishu.PNG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Imaginative twins Ribha and Rishu.<br /><div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Digital sketch: Vini</i></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Grandpop looked up as they burst in from the hall: “I’m
guessing you’ve found something exciting or those stairs of mine wouldn’t have
protested so much!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“My red riding hood!” Grandmom shrieked, and pulled it away from
Ribha’s playful hands.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“<i>Your</i> hood, Grandmom?” the girl asked, her eyes
lighting up in anticipation of a fine story. She was an unabashed romantic.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes, dear, <i>her</i> hood,” Grandpop interjected. “The one
I saw her in, the very first time.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“And were you the wolf in disguise?” Rishu, the one with the
gory imagination, ran to his grandfather’s side.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What wolf, child?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The one who ate Red Riding Hood’s grandmother!” Rishu
rolled his eyes and pretended to growl.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The grandparents laughed loudly.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, if I had, indeed, why would she marry me? And I look
like a wolf, do I?” Grandpop asked Rishu.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“<i>I</i> don’t think you are a wolf, Grandpop,” Risha reassured
him. “But I think Grandmom is Red Riding Hood who escaped the wolf and grew up
to marry you.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“When I saw her first I did think she was Red Riding Hood,”
Grandpop twinkled his eyes at her.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Does Mom know of this? I want to hear the <i>full</i>
story,” Ribha said as she deposited her little form firmly on the rug at her
grandfather’s feet.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Me, too,” said Rishu, who really looked up to her, seven minutes his senior by birth.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As a young lad, Grandpop lived in apartments that were set
in a square. Wide roads lined by thick oak trees provided a good practising
ground for riders and drivers.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One hazy morning he lifted the curtains of his room to check
the weather, wondering if a light cardigan would do or a thick jacket was
needed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A flash of red streaked down the lane right beneath his
window. He opened the window wide to follow the biker, forgetting that there
was a big flower pot on the ledge. Leaning far out, he knocked the pot down. It
landed in the middle of the road just as the red figure rode again into the
lane. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Crash, sheee-ie, eeeeek!” came some loud sounds as the
rider applied the brakes to avoid the broken pot and crashed into a hedge.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Grandpop, that was Grandmom on the bike? And you also fell
out of the window?” Rishu was thoroughly enjoying himself.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No, son, I managed not to topple out. But I just had to see
what damage had been done,” his grandfather replied.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Half the neighbourhood was out by then. Grandpop tore down
the stairs to rescue the red-clad biker, now lying flat on the stomach. The
hood completely covered the head, making it difficult to say if it was a man or
woman. Grandpop decided to play it rough, and yanked up the dormant figure by
the jacket. A wonderful thing happened then. The biker rolled over, rested a
curly head on his shoulder, and decided to shut her eyes again. Only then did
he realize he was holding a young girl in his arms.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Their grandmother chided her husband, her cheeks now a
lovely pink: “You don’t have to tell the children these gory details.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What’s gory, Grandmom?” asked Rishu.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Hush, Grandmom. Hush, Rishu. So you hugged her right then,
Grandpop?” asked Ribha, truly entranced by the romantic episode.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No such luck, he told her. He wanted to, but her aunt and
uncle appeared right then. She had come to live with them for a week, and had
found the calm morning too much to resist. So she had stolen out on her uncle’s
bike.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“And landed in your arms,” Ribha whispered happily.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Grandmom was now all a-tizzy.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Come away, little ones, meal’s been waiting for long,” she
called.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The kids were in no mood to oblige. “Not till we hear how
you got married, Grandmom,” the twins spoke in unison.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Grandpop loved to revisit his love story, and who
better to share with than his own grandchildren? “Ignore her.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ribha put her head in his lap. “Grandpop, no short cuts,
please,” she urged him.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So he continued, and his wife eventually joined them while
supper went cold.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Her uncle and aunt, his parents and the neighbours tut-tutted
over the hapless biker, checking if all her bones were intact. Once it was
clear that she was just shaken up by the fall, they fell upon him. How could he
be so careless as to let fall the flower pot? Did he not notice anyone on the
road?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That was the whole point, but they would not let him speak.
He <i>had </i>noticed someone on the road, which is why he leaned out, which is
why the flower pot fell!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He decided to stay mum. Apologizing awkwardly, he seized the
moment to look full into her face once more. He wanted to fall at her feet and
ask her to marry him right away, for she looked so sweet. But surely she was
naughty too, to be driving like a maniac in the nippy morning. She dimpled at
him as she accepted his apology, and limped away.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Her aunt and uncle lived on the opposite side of the square.
He sighted her once or twice, but couldn’t wait for Sunday when most families
sunned themselves in the common lawn after breakfast. He wondered if she would
be there.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
His parents couldn’t help notice his frequent trips to the
window when Sunday came. How could he tell them his heart thumped madly for this
girl from distant <st1:country -region="-region" w:st="on">India</st1:country>?
He just wanted to meet her once again so that he could know if she too had
liked him. And then he saw her enter the lawn from the far end, wearing the
same red hoodie. She seemed to be looking for someone.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He dashed out, then slowed and sauntered up to her. She gave
him a radiant smile, but turned away. He caught up with her, and blurted out:
“I just have to ask you, will you marry me?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“And just how old are you?” she shot back.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Twenty-three.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“And I am only 20,” she retorted. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He fell to his knees. “You must say yes,” he pleaded with
her.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“This is embarrassing. You know nothing about me, nor I
about you.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’ll tell you all you want to know, just say yes.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Grandmom, just like that? He came straight to the point?” a
thrilled Ribha asked.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You’ve been reading too many novels, I can see,” Grandmom
retorted.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“There was no wolf in your story?” a disappointed Rishu
asked.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“There nearly was,” Grandpop disclosed. “I would have
kidnapped her if she had refused, but she couldn’t resist me, you see.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What do you do when you’ve been imagining robbers are
chasing you around the lane and so you are riding at lightning speed, and when
you open your eyes you find Prince Charming holding you safe?” Grandmom
protested.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ribha jumped up and kissed her grandmother soundly: “I so
much love you, I always knew there were princes around.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“He is no prince, but he has been a loving husband, yes.
Even princes can be bad or cruel. You want a good, kind man to marry and be happy with forever.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“And don’t you get ideas now,” she admonished Ribha, firmly
tucking the garment under her arm.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ribha later told Rishu: “I’m getting myself a red jacket
like Grandmom’s. Promise me you won’t tell Mom why, and one day I’ll help you find <i>your
</i>Red Riding Hood!” The twins laughed conspiratorially.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
HARJEEThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13206104503390499833noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2715447575519394073.post-46689552619529342892012-10-15T02:46:00.000-07:002012-10-15T02:46:05.335-07:00For Grandma's sake<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Kushal and his friends were absorbed in animated
conversation. Grandpa watched them intently from across the room. They did not
notice when he quietly moved to a sofa close by.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Aha! So they want to open a day school for little ones,” he
nodded to himself approvingly.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Two of Kushal’s friends were young women, evidently very
taken with the idea. The men in the group obviously could not quite see the
point, Grandpa reckoned.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Men will be men,” he groaned.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He became restless, and decided he needed tea. He walked to the kitchen and told the
maid to prepare seven cups of tea.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She looked enquiringly at him, but he growled at her: “Do as
I say.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Grandpa returned to his sofa, and the steaming tea arrived soon after.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Sorry, why not take a tea break?” Grandpa said loudly to no
one in particular.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Kushal gave his grandfather an irritated look, but the two
women squealed with delight and gladly picked up a cup each. The men followed
suit reluctantly.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I do apologize. I’m bad with names, you see,” Grandpa said.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The guests were quick to protest that it was perfectly fine.
A fresh round of introductions followed, leaving Kushal a little red-faced.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“And you were talking about …?” Grandpa asked gently.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It won’t interest you, Grandpa. It’s a
business proposal,” Kushal said gruffly.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He was conveniently ignored.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Grandpa seemed to purr silkily as he addressed the women
now. “So you young ladies are businesswomen, are you?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No, sir,” replied the younger of the two. “We are only trying
to get into business.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now Grandpa was being openly inquisitive. “What kind, if I
may ask?” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Setting up a day school for the children of office-going
parents.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘I see, a crèche, in other words.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No, Grandpa … um-m … may we call you Grandpa?” she asked absent-mindedly,
and carried on regardless. “It’s not just for tiny tots. Parents who work late
into the evening are worried about their children’s safety, whatever their age.
Servants are no answer for nuclear families now, are they?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Exactly my point!” Grandpa exclaimed triumphantly.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Kushal was almost livid with his grandfather for hijacking
their meeting like this.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Allow us to carry on our discussion, please, Grandpa,” he
urged, not too discreetly.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No, no, this is my favourite subject. I’m going nowhere,”
Grandpa announced grandly.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Kushal rolled his eyes helplessly, but the
girls promptly flanked Grandpa. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Let’s hear you on this,” they cajoled him.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The other three men too pulled their chairs into a circle
around Grandpa, forcing Kushal to join in.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, when Kushal was very young, his Grandma and I lived
many miles away. We used to be very worried about how his parents were
managing, since they are both practising doctors,” Grandpa began.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
His story was engrossing, and the tea went cold.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A full-time manservant engaged from a remote tribal village
was the doctor couple’s only back-up. On those rare days when he took leave,
mostly Kushal’s mother would skip work to be with her son. Another child followed, and she had to run her practice part-time, from home. The manservant
had left by then, and two part-time maids helped out.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There was no mobile phone or Internet connection those
days, only STD calls made mostly from telephone booths. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Kushal’s father had taken an STD connection at home to stay
in touch with his parents. There were times when Kushal’s mother had to make a
short outdoor trip, and she would dial Grandpa, asking him to talk to Kushal
till she returned.</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNP5-H19KcsKilwSU_bSAWBQFWWeh71PG5jQpewabo7Fj2-RpKnT9tHq71WeCHTifK5qFmsSpxaVU_aUxlGR2iQQwzTmBoyScvo-xIkEy-Nra1ONf6MAtj2wHk4mPAnfkwxkm7AWCEO7VP/s1600/Kushal's+grandma.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNP5-H19KcsKilwSU_bSAWBQFWWeh71PG5jQpewabo7Fj2-RpKnT9tHq71WeCHTifK5qFmsSpxaVU_aUxlGR2iQQwzTmBoyScvo-xIkEy-Nra1ONf6MAtj2wHk4mPAnfkwxkm7AWCEO7VP/s200/Kushal's+grandma.jpg" width="142" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thumbs up, Grandma!<br /><div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Digital sketch: Harjeet</i></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Kushal’s friends gasped. STD calls in those days must have cost
a bomb. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They did, indeed, but there was no question of hiring a baby
sitter: The concept simply did not exist in those days, and anyway middle-class
families could not have afforded them.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Such calls were not frequent, but they did show the dilemma
of having to leave children unattended.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Where is all this taking us, Grandpa?” Kushal asked.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“To the business plan that your Grandma and I drew up, to
help just such couples,” responded Grandpa.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The grandparents, both retired educationists themselves, broached
the subject with some friends of theirs, and found it to be a universal problem
among working couples trying to bring up children all by themselves. They
formed an elders’ forum. Living far away from their son so that their
daughter could complete her medical studies, Kushal’s grandparents took solace
in the fact that they might be able to assist other young parents.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They took up the matter with the mayor of the town. He spoke
to some local schools but they were unable to help beyond school hours. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A philanthropist came to know of their efforts. After a
lengthy meeting, he offered to fund any viable project they proposed, including teaching equipment that some members favoured.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Grandma put her foot down at this stage. She opposed the
idea of more schooling after school hours.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Their benefactor seemed to agree with her on this and other issues, such as an adjoining crèche so that mothers could be free for some time
and where children could join their little siblings after school for a short while. No studies unless the kids themselves wanted them. So a
glass-partitioned study was proposed, and approved.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Let me recall … to run the project, we needed, and found, volunteers from
many professions: a lawyer, a chartered accountant, a doctor, a retired
colonel and at least four retired school teachers. There were others, but more of
a reserve force, if you know what I mean,” Grandpa looked at the keen faces
around him. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They shook their heads wonderingly.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So you set up the project, Grandpa?” asked one.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We could not find a suitably located building. See, we could not have afforded a bus, its maintenance, drivers’ salaries
and so on. So parents would have had to take their kids home themselves. But,
more than that …”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Don’t say it never happened, please,” whispered Kushal.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Indeed it did not. Our friendly financier suffered a
setback and went broke in a matter of months. We were so dejected. Your
Grandma says she still dreams of that project.” Grandpa took a deep breath.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A bespectacled young man rose from his chair. “With due
respect, Grandpa, would you care to fulfill her dream now?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m an old man, child, but all of you have age and courage on your side. Do it if you want to,” he replied.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Kushal was quiet, but the others babbled on for some time. Grandpa was
clearly overwhelmed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After they left, Kushal sat down at his knee. “Would you like to
see the project come through?” he asked.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I don’t have the money, son,” Grandpa pointed out.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But you have the vision. Grandpa, at our management school, we are encouraged to
propose innovative projects. We have financiers. Some are angel investors, some venture capitalists. May I take it forward? For Grandma’s sake?” Kushal
asked.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Grandpa gave a silent assent, his eyes misty.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Twelve months later, a decrepit building donated by the family
of one of Kushal’s woman friends had been renovated and equipped with the
necessary infrastructure. It also had a play pen, a gym, indoor basketball and table
tennis courts, a kitchen and two cooks, three full-time attendants, and a bus
and two drivers.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At the registration counter, Grandpa proudly put the
honorary chairman’s seal on the first admission for the launch batch of 25
children, aged 4 years to 13.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He looked up to see his snowy-haired wife making a happy thumbs-up
sign as the gathering broke into a thunderous applause.</div>
<a name='more'></a><br />
</div>
HARJEEThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13206104503390499833noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2715447575519394073.post-8633593871723087162012-10-07T11:11:00.000-07:002012-10-07T11:11:40.320-07:00JMPE: Laugh and read on<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
To begin from the beginning. It’s about her marriage, but Yashodhara
Lal has touchingly dedicated her book <i>Just Married, Please Excuse</i> “To my
family – for the material they provide”.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Indeed, without the family <i>JMPE</i> would have little meaning.
The dedication seems cleverly worded, for members of the bride and groom’s respective families too move with ease in
and out of the pages and the marriage Yashodhara has so wonderfully penned a
story about.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is, primarily, a hilarious account of the family life that she
and Vijay embark on, right from the time they first set eyes on each other.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It is about how “Y” – as he calls her – reacts when “Vijay
usually said whatever popped into his head”. It is about her own shenanigans which
she sketches with amazing ease of words.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Both the situations she tends to land into so often, and the
way she describes them, make you chuckle: You shake your head, you agree she is
impossible and self-confessedly exasperating, and yet she is so likeable.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You look forward to “Lambu” Vijay’s Hindi one-liners; you admire him
for his fortitude and also his indisputable love for Y, complete with her quick
temper and her gaffes and gawky ways.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And you laugh and read on. About their life in <st1:city w:st="on">Bangalore</st1:city>, the ducks he
took her to admire and the plot of land they nearly bought; about Mumbai and
life next to Bandstand, their maid and driver and their adventures. All keep
you riveted.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When Y is in the family way, things turn less funny. The pain of the Delhi-Mumbai distance between
the couple when she goes to live with her Mom is palpable.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Childbirth and the distance of a different kind between
them now almost make you forget you were reading a funny novel.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yes, a child really does things to married life. Y hangs on
bravely to her quirky views on life, and Vijay and his “Buntvinder” eventually are a loving couple again. But the book could have done with fewer pages on the harsh reality that hits the couple with the advent of one little bundle, Peanut.</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw-C999gbkIaXgx9R-vhI-A6BfflI2cTHZcQVAAiedJPUgDCHwci_8tY7Q1-R-p9lizhDdZWRm8GJ8Mft01Dsy6N15weQ7YL4BSWidGZRC3ijjtDfSvTTcCMdPLkVr-7fieNLTMh0vfAbz/s1600/yash+and+vijay.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw-C999gbkIaXgx9R-vhI-A6BfflI2cTHZcQVAAiedJPUgDCHwci_8tY7Q1-R-p9lizhDdZWRm8GJ8Mft01Dsy6N15weQ7YL4BSWidGZRC3ijjtDfSvTTcCMdPLkVr-7fieNLTMh0vfAbz/s200/yash+and+vijay.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yashodhara and Vijay at Mamagoto.<br /><div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Pic: Harjeet </i></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I, for one, would still have liked to read before the book ended just a little more of the
fun that undoubtedly came back to stay in their lives.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yash, please excuse. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
All in all, though, the book is an eminently enjoyable
journey that traces the making, and saving, of a marriage.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yash did affirm at our <a href="http://www.brookandpebbles.com/2012/09/on-winning-book.html" target="_blank">Mamagoto lunch </a>that 99 per cent of <i>JMPE</i> was truthful reporting. Having read the book at long last, I’d say I believe her.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
</div>
HARJEEThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13206104503390499833noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2715447575519394073.post-14412730314027511192012-09-28T03:10:00.001-07:002012-09-28T03:10:21.722-07:00Sumanth goes moonwalking<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was cold and eerie. The sky had a strange grey pall over
it. His thickly padded suit protected Sumanth, but his eyes
were finding it difficult to adjust to the strange environment.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He stumbled over a moon rock and fell into a small crater.
Bouncing out of it onto more solid ground – which was actually an endless carpet of
grey dust – all of a sudden Sumanth realized that he was alone. He had lost his way,
and there was no landmark that he could recognize. The vast expanse of bleak
land pockmarked with craters and rocks, big and small, was silent, ghostly. He thought he could hear
a faint hum somewhere, but soon recalled that the rarefied air made it impossible to hear, let alone locate the
source or direction of the sound.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sumanth was panicking now. His children too were lost on the
moon!</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo1dbDRDfRVI-ohM31KUOhKXwJV2-XZkfG81IH7Hn1M9KVTPoxAQN46JEN6fj-ErUC_gMqhKAq0X9BS-QsapZNJMuoaQi8aiThUFVfnnFHR8cBNvtSI4RPtEzrvOuH1j5i-A_nMMl096C4/s1600/Sumanth+goes+moonwalking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo1dbDRDfRVI-ohM31KUOhKXwJV2-XZkfG81IH7Hn1M9KVTPoxAQN46JEN6fj-ErUC_gMqhKAq0X9BS-QsapZNJMuoaQi8aiThUFVfnnFHR8cBNvtSI4RPtEzrvOuH1j5i-A_nMMl096C4/s200/Sumanth+goes+moonwalking.jpg" width="142" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The barrel on the moon.<br /><i>Digital sketch: Harjeet</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He tried using the speaking tube, but it dangled at a
dangerous angle from his helmet and refused to obey his commands. He wanted to
call the moon ship and ask his friend to look for Debie and Sambie. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Debie had a sound head on her shoulders, but Sambie was
forever launching into exploratory expeditions. He scented mystery where there was none.
He would go haring down playgrounds and hotel buildings alike, chasing
imaginary beings, his sister hot on his heels trying to keep up with him.
Sumanth was sure Sambie had scurried off now as well. The boy just wasn’t born
to obey. He regretted bringing the kids along, but it was a birthday promise he
had had to keep. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sumanth had made his wife a party to this silly moonwalking
trip, and now the children had wandered off in a different direction. He hoped
the two were at least together. If only he could figure out where he stood and how
far he was from the moon ship, he might be able to join his wife and his
friend. His wife was mapping the area around the landing pad. His friend was
manning the controls and was in constant touch with the tour organizers back on
earth.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He took out his moonometer and peered into the glass
surface. Fine particles had formed a layer which he tried to wipe, but his thick
gloves smeared it with more moon dust. It was a frustrating exercise. His
anxiety levels were rising, and the pressure valve in his helmet was beeping so
loudly that he could hardly think.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He pressed his chest hard to calm himself. That set off an
unexpected alarm, a sort of hoot. He had forgotten the embedded device, meant
to signal to fellow tourists to converge. He sounded the hoot again, hoping the
children would come scampering from over the horizon.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He looked that way. God, no, not over the horizon. That was
the dark side of the moon. Sumanth prayed fervently that Sambie had not been foolish
enough to lead Debie there. No one had been able to fathom what went on there,
for no light worked once you crossed the horizon and all missions to that part
so far had failed miserably.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sumanth rolled down a huge crater, having missed seeing it
because he was deeply worried about his kids. A big barrel lay at the bottom. Left
behind by some moon tourists, he assumed. Still, he rolled it over lightly and
stood back in surprise as it bounced upward to the other edge of the
crater. He watched bemused as it started lumbering back in slow motion. Out
peeped his son’s head!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Sambie!” he squeaked in relief. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Sambie, what are you doing here?” he fumbled with his
speaking tube. Clearly his son could not hear him.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The helmet on Sambie’s head was greyed over with moon dust,
and it was difficult to make out Sambie’s expression. Where could Debie be
hiding? Not in the same barrel, surely? Of course, there she was, her head popping
out from the other end of the hollow barrel now. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They seemed to be stuck. Their thick suits must have got
entangled somehow, and now the kids were unable to wriggle out, he realized.
Giving chase, he bounded down the crater but overshot the barrel by a huge
margin. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Easy,” he told himself. “This is the moon, where gravity is
one-sixth of that of earth. So I have to use that much less force.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But he had underestimated the moon. With Debie and Sambie inside, the barrel hit the bottom of the crater and sped past him back to the
huge open space above him. He braked hard, which meant he had to dig his thick moon shoes deep into the dust, and got blinded by it. By the time he cleaned his visor
enough for some light to come through, the barrel had sailed over the edge and
was out of sight.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sumanth clambered up gingerly, not wanting to slide back into the
big hole. It was not easy to take big strides on the moon’s surface, and this
slope made it even tougher. When he gained the edge, he found his two children
flailing their arms and trying to exit the rolling monster. He swore he was not
taking them for a moonwalk again.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Again he overshot the barrel because he ran too fast and
rose too high in the moon air. The dust he had kicked up down there created a
spooky cloud in the background, against which his children in the barrel formed
a grotesque silhouette. He landed with a soft thump, more dust rose, and a lump
formed in his throat. At this rate he would not be able to rescue his children.
He stood still, and motioned to them to stop struggling.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nerves somewhat steadier, he took measured little leaps that
brought him close to the barrel. Catching hold of Debie’s moon suit, he tried
to pull her out. But the harder he tugged at her, the more she seemed to resist
it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Papa, Papa!” Sumanth heard her cry.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He tried to pull with all his might, and landed on his back.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He had crashlanded – on the floor of his bedroom.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
His children were laughing heartily, having watched him
struggle in his sleep to pull a bolster pillow from his wife’s hands.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh, so there you are,” he said as he lay splayed helpless on
the rug. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He smiled dreamily to himself. He had extricated them from
that awful barrel at last.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
HARJEEThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13206104503390499833noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2715447575519394073.post-39966786999470327572012-09-11T07:08:00.000-07:002012-09-11T07:08:35.805-07:00On winning a book<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was not the first time I was receiving a signed book. In
school, in college, on birthdays, I have received books as prizes or
gifts with my name inscribed on the first page.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Saturday, September 8, though, was different.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The occasion deserves a departure from my blog format, for
it was an exciting and unusual achievement for me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I began serious blogging for a lark (wink!) just a few
months back, and never thought it would so soon bring me face to face with an
impressive bunch of bloggers, some of them astoundingly prolific, others who post occasionally. Some
have been at it for years! I have to thank young <a href="http://agateophilic.blogspot.in/2012/08/summer-cleaning.html" target="_blank">Shruti</a> for it, a former colleague who pestered me into joining IndiBlogger. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When
Yashodhara Lal’s very inviting mail on the blogger contest landed in my inbox, I did
not think I could make the grade. I copied and stowed it away in a file, only
to revisit it two days before the contest closed. And look where it landed me!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At lunch with a mix of enthusiastic bloggers and authors,
some less than half my age, and the lovely and hardworking HarperCollins Chief
Editor and Publisher Karthika, at <a href="http://www.mamagoto.in/" target="_blank">Mamagoto</a> in Gurgaon<span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And pray why? I’d for the first time in my life entered a
story-telling contest, and for <a href="http://www.brookandpebbles.com/2012/08/the-just-married-please-excuse-contest.html" target="_blank">my labours</a> of two hours or less, was rewarded with a copy of <i><a href="http://www.justmarriedpleaseexcuse.com/" target="_blank">Just Married, Please Excuse</a></i> from the author Yashodhara herself, handed across a tightly packed luncheon
table. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
By the way, the food was mouth-watering, and my vegan
friends need not quail at entering a Thai restaurant either. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Believe me, winning the book this way has made it much more invaluable than if I had bought it off a shelf. I’ve been too busy to read it at one go, but now I am settling down to read the rest of the oh-so-funny <i>JMPE</i> right after posting this!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
HARJEEThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13206104503390499833noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2715447575519394073.post-88297886735819947202012-09-05T05:58:00.000-07:002012-09-05T05:58:35.531-07:00The same-name couple<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Roop pointed out a story in the day’s newspaper to his wife.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Navjot (Singh Sidhu) is also married to Navjot,” he winked
at her.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He watched the wondrous smile spread across her face. He
loved to make it happen, the way she curled one corner of her mouth and
gradually let her happiness travel across her lips to the other corner. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That smile was what had attracted him in the first place. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She was reading a book in the Metro and he was hanging on to
the overhead bar, buffeted about by the milling crowds. He was about to give it back
to a man who had given him a rather nasty shove, but he saw her shake her head as
if in exasperation. And that mesmerizing smile began to appear.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Cheshire cat!” he thought to himself, not entirely in a
charitable mood right then. Two stations later, he was still staring at her. He
wondered if the wearer of the smile would still be there if he blinked. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He blinked, but she was still there, smiling as she continued to read.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He was lucky it was a Saturday. Office was over for the
weekend, and he had to meet a vague acquaintance late in the evening. So he
would travel with the Smile, maybe even follow her off the train.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The crowd had thinned out. He hoped he would get to sit next
to her, but got a seat opposite her instead. Peering at the book, he realized
she was reading PG Wodehouse. That explained her amusement.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Our tastes match,” he thought happily. Right then she
looked up, and caught his intent stare. “What beautiful eyes!” he told
himself, forgetting to look away.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
An unidentified caller broke the silence. “Roop here,” he
spoke into the phone.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The look from across the aisle was murderous. His voice
trailed away, and he forgot to carry on the conversation. The Smile was
positively livid at something he had said or done. He wondered why she should
take such umbrage to him.</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1k-iZPL7BnA3Nrh7d5lVfkuLhw_h_RYK4qGILtyr1aNLFPtuhLRxIG4j1i5MNMn7LocteNlpVl8H6reqVFxS2vMExP-PGDUvKsrWBMibKieo-lYyFkimxEdlkUUPDhKwzwEA-tkmPKhLY/s1600/roop+weds+roop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1k-iZPL7BnA3Nrh7d5lVfkuLhw_h_RYK4qGILtyr1aNLFPtuhLRxIG4j1i5MNMn7LocteNlpVl8H6reqVFxS2vMExP-PGDUvKsrWBMibKieo-lYyFkimxEdlkUUPDhKwzwEA-tkmPKhLY/s200/roop+weds+roop.jpg" width="168" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On their wedding cards.<br /><div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Digital sketch: Harjeet</i></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Suddenly she was looming over him.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“How dare you?” she hissed at him.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“How dare I what?” he asked, bristling a little. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“How do you utter my name?” she spoke menacingly.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He stood up. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Your name? How would I know your name?” he
demanded, as agitated.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Roop. That’s my name,” she whispered fiercely.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Really? Mine too,” he extended his hand quite
involuntarily.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Shut up. Can’t be,” she said, now a little confused.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Please sit down. I’ll show you my card,” he pleaded
with her. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They made their way to a vacant twin seat.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She looked at his card case. His name was embossed on it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Her tone had changed. “Roop. I don’t believe this.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This was too much of a coincidence. They had the same
family name too.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Hi,” he held out his hand again. She shook it, a little shy. Before they parted that night, they had become good friends. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They had disembarked
near a shopping mall, strolled around, wanting to know everything about each
other as if there was no tomorrow.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She was three years his junior, had arrived in the city two
years ago and lived with relatives, near the commercial complex housing her
office. Today she had come out to shop.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He helped her with the shopping, carrying her bags and
stuff, telling her about his home and family. He lived away from them, close to
his workplace.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On the way back to the Metro station, they exchanged phone
numbers.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They were madly in love already. It took them just weeks to
get to the proposal stage, and in three months they were planning marriage.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Roop weds Roop. This is the biggest joke I’ve heard,” was
his mother’s first reaction. His brother joined in, laughing his head off as he
repeated the words.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Roop weds Roop!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Initially it upset him a lot, but he saw the funny side
of it soon enough.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Tell me, how many such couples do you know?” he challenged
his brother.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“None, and I don’t think I will,” his brother replied.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That’s the best part. Imagine all the confusion arising out
of addressing the man, and the wife responding instead. Or the reverse. This
gets better and better!” Roop exclaimed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
His father joined in in the mirth, saying he was open to having
Roop and Roop in his family. He met the girl and liked her matter-of-fact attitude.
The name was of no consequence in such matters, he declared.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The bride-to-be was met with consternation back home. Her
granny expressed vehement opposition to the “same-name” marriage. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It’s the not the names but two people who are getting
married,” Roop protested.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“This is just not
done. He must change his name, in that case,” Granny announced.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No way!” Roop retorted. “And why him? I’ll change my name,
if it comes to that.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Why should you? It’s your given name. We’ve always called
you that,” Granny replied.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The same goes for him, Granny,” Roop tried to reason with
her. “We’re both cool with it, so why does it worry you?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Roop’s niece was enterprising. She promptly typed in a
Google search for same-name couples. “An American name researcher calls it an
‘offbeat attraction’,” she told Granny. “That’s what has bitten Auntie.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Also, the perspicacious niece pointed out, the families need
not be too concerned. Except that there could be confusion with their credit
cards or phone calls, there would be faces to the names on their identity cards
and passports to distinguish between husband and wife. Moreover, since they
would be living by themselves, there would be no daily confusion over who was being
called.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Imitating them, she said first, in a feminine voice:
“Roop!” Then, with a masculine ring:
“Yes, Roop, darling wife!” Roop should have been there to see the Smile.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Her parents did not want to comment before meeting the “boy”. The
name was a bit of a tricky affair, but all else about him was unexceptionable. They
also turned out to be distantly related. His family seemed affectionate and
their daughter was very much at ease with them. That mattered most.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There were some hilarious times in the run-up to the
wedding.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The bridegroom’s mother went shopping clothes for the bride
and he got ribbed for days after she displayed a crimson sari and said, “This
should look good on Roop.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The slender bride’s grandfather was startled when he saw a
rather large ring bought for Roop. He had a good laugh on being reminded that
the bridegroom went by the same name. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Though the invitation cards were clearly inscribed with
“Roop weds Roop”, the wedding guests made quite a thing of the unusual pairing
of names. The priest who performed the marriage rites too kept tripping over
the shared name.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then there was quite a scene when they went to get their
marriage registered. It took a pile of documents and their marriage album to
convince the official concerned that all was above board.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Life had since been quite entertaining. They enjoyed puzzling
friends and relatives with barely concealed amusement: “Meet Roop, my wife.”
“This is Roop, my husband.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As if to put them at ease, some people obligingly told them
of other same-name couples they knew. Once they even shared a coupe in
the train with another same-name couple, much older, who regaled them with
their own experiences. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Their so-called offbeat attraction had endured well.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They were always scanning names, sharing a laugh when they
found “<st1:city w:st="on">Taylor</st1:city> to wed <st1:city w:st="on">Taylor</st1:city>” or something like that. She was pregnant
now, and they giggled over the prospect of filling up forms with common entries
for “Mother’s name” and “Father’s name”. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Roop’s nostalgic trip was cut short</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You haven’t read the paper carefully, I think,” his wife reprimanded
him gently after reading the news report. “Unlike us, they don’t have the same family
name as well. She’s Navjot Kaur,” she said. “High five, husband!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As their hands met, her smile broadened into a grin. Roop
grinned back at Roop.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
HARJEEThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13206104503390499833noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2715447575519394073.post-58049243146212366222012-08-29T10:19:00.000-07:002012-08-29T10:23:14.293-07:00The 'Just Married, Please Excuse' Contest <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I could listen to bawdy stuff without turning a hair, my newspaper office being
full of intellectuals whose sole pastime was cracking smutty jokes. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
All through college, I had also read enough of hot sleaze as
a result of foraging second-hand books on <st1:city w:st="on">New
Delhi</st1:city>’s <st1:street w:st="on">Parliament
Street</st1:street> and Karol Bagh pavements and borrowing from
the British Council Library.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My family knew I loved books, right from my school days. A
natural progression had been my Master’s in English literature, again much of which was not exactly Victorian.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So I was no stranger to innuendo and double entendre, but in
conservative families such as ours, these are taboo when you are in the company
of elders or young daughters and sons.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There was great excitement when I, newly wed, went over to my
parental home for a night. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After dinner, I sat chatting with my parents and an aunt, uncle and their daughter-in-law. We talked about my marriage
ceremony, how the wedding guests had behaved, my new home, and my
honeymoon destination … the destination, mind you, not how the honeymoon went. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I knew what I was going to do would shock them, but a mischievous
imp just made me go ahead with it. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For the first time ever, I sang. I sang a naughty Punjabi
lyric my husband had taught me on our honeymoon. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Even before I had finished reciting the song, the two sisters were blushing to the roots of their hair. My very, very shy sister-in-law had muttered something about the dishes and scooted from the scene.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There was pin-drop silence.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The men didn’t know where to look.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When no reaction was forthcoming, I asked nonchalantly: “Excuse me, what’s the matter? It’s just a song that bangle sellers sing!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The foursome gaped at me, and cackled. “Yes, yes, of course,
the bangle sellers indeed!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I joined in the laughter before beating a hasty retreat, for
now I could feel the colour creeping into my cheeks. As I stepped out, I heard
my embarrassed aunt say, “What are the times coming to?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Uncle retorted: “Come on, be happy. She’s obviously had a great honeymoon!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I heard them break into raucous laughter.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Still, I’m sure they were also squirming inside, unable to accept
just yet that the daughter of the house was suddenly no longer shy of discussing
sex.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But I hadn’t talked sex. It was all in their minds.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And even if I had, what the heck … hadn’t I just got
married!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I might not have recalled this for years, perhaps, but for <a href="http://www.yashodharalal.com/2012/08/the-just-married-please-excuse-contest.html" target="_blank">the contest</a>. Thanks, Yashodhara.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
HARJEEThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13206104503390499833noreply@blogger.com8