I remember those happy times,
The days when we were young,
When we were little children,
The days spent in the afternoon sun,
The days we fought,
The days we rolled on the sand,
And the days we threw tantrums.
O, how can I forget those days,
For that was the closest I’d been to you,
Oh, my dear sister.
Over the course of time,
Our roles changed,
We no longer fight,
We no longer roll over together,
O, the sorrow of being an adult!
The roles will keep changing,
Job, money, fame and family,
And then,
We’ll no longer be brothers and sisters,
We’ll be friends,
Maybe make a trip or two together,
But that’s about it.
My dear sister,
I assure you,
Though our footprints may diverge in the sands of time,
We’ll forever remain connected,
Through a common bond,
Our blood and our hearts.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Whirl....
Whirl…
by Shree Vishnu Vardhan
So, finally, my mom’s coming over to visit me. I was so excited. It’s been a long while. But, she hadn’t always been happy with my decision anyway. She used to cry for hours on end just to calm herself down. But, when greener pastures beckon, one must grab the opportunity with both hands. I myself didn’t regret the decision. This place is pure heaven! And the workplace is so serene and tranquil, that I fell in love with it the moment I entered.
“Hi mom… How are you? Long time no see!!”
“You still haven’t changed, have you Mr. Arun?”
“Mom, I’m so happy that you’ve come. You won’t go back, won’t you? I missed you a lot.”
“No dear I won’t be going back. I’ve informed dad. He said that he’ll also be here in a month or two, maybe even less. It all depends.”
“Thank goodness. I was beginning to wonder whether I would ever get to see you again.”
“You’ll forever remain mama’s boy. Oh! When are you going to grow up, mister? I missed you a lot, you know…” mom’s tears spoke.
We embraced. It was a strange feeling. A bit awkward, to be precise.
********
Of course, it was my mom who had started it all. Looking back, I could guess the fight was rather silly but it led to me making the most important decision of my life.
“Mom, this is important for me. I always wanted to go to the U.S. I don’t care for anyone else.”
“Not even your parents?”
Now, this was asking for trouble. Of course, she knew that I loved her. This was emotional blackmail.
“What the hell do you think, huh? Just because you are my parents, it doesn’t mean you can play around with my life. I’ve grown big and I can handle things on my own…”
“Beta, do understand. America is a dirty country, full of vices. I can’t let my only son serve prostitutes.”
“Oh… cut the crap out. I know better. It’s really surprising that you don’t have faith in your only son.”
“That’s the problem. You’re my only son. Had I had two of them, I’d have gladly sent you to the US…”
“Mom, please mom. I promise you, when I come back….”
“….You’ll bring along with you an American girl, huh? I’ve heard enough. No is my answer. That is final.”
“Why on earth should I listen to you? Don’t you dare interfere in my life….”
“ARUN!!!!”
“….I’m not your puppet! Oh please, I don’t give a damn to your thoughts. Go to hell!”
“…ARUN!!!”
“I’m off. I had enough. I’ll just take the passport and go…” I turn to the table.
“Is this what you’re talking about?” questioned dad, menacingly holding up the small-rectangular book in the air.
“Dad, no…please dad…no, please…” I pleaded, guessing what he was up to.
“There it goes…”
I watched in horror as he chucked the book into the toilet and pressed the flush. Even as water flowed out and created a whirlpool with the book as the epicenter, I was sucked into my own whirlpool of emotions and plunged headlong into a deep abyss. Of life itself. 
********
Of course, it was my son who had started it all. Looking back, I could guess the fight was rather silly but it led to me making the most important decision of my life.
“Mom, this is important for me. I always wanted to go to the U.S. I don’t care for anyone else.”
Now, this was asking for trouble. Of course, I knew that he loved me. I tried emotional blackmail.
“Not even your parents?”
“What the hell do you think, huh? Just because you are my parents, it doesn’t mean you can play around with my life. I’ve grown big and I can handle things on my own…”
“Beta, you see, I wouldn’t like it if you started to behave as the Americans do. You’re too young. Live in a joint family. Enjoy being with your parents and your friends here. You won’t even have anyone to look after you there.”
“Why on earth should I listen to you? Don’t you dare interfere in my life….”
“ARUN!!!!”
“….I’m not your puppet. Oh please, I don’t give a damn to your thoughts. Go to hell!”
“…ARUN!!!”
“I’m off. I had enough. I’ll just take the passport and go…” he turned to the table.
“Is this what you’re talking about?” questioned my husband, menacingly holding up the small-rectangular book in the air.
“Dad, no…please dad…no, please…” he pleaded, guessing what he was up to.
“There it goes…”
I watched in horror as he chucked the book into the toilet and pressed the flush. Even as water flowed out and created a whirlpool with the book as the epicenter, I was sucked into my own whirlpool of emotions and plunged headlong into a deep abyss. Of life itself.
********
The view from atop the world was quite breathtaking. Even as I looked down, I could see ant-people, roads running for miles, cars and trucks lined up randomly, buildings in all it’s splendor and exorbitant lights illuminating the entire city. I, of course, wouldn’t let up my dream that easily. I was obsessed with success and the US and I was determined to achieve it or die in the process. I was always captivated by the people. By the beggar on the street, the policeman at the corner, the vendor on the road and by life and its beauty. I had started to descent now. Even as the road below drew closer and closer and grew bigger and bigger, I had the sudden urge to go back again, to my mom, but by then it was too late.
********
The divorce case made me drained mentally and emotionally but not financially. Of course, I do love my husband a lot but I couldn’t live with the injustice that he meted out to my son. Our son. We could have solved the issue simply by losing just a few drops of sweat and tears, but to flush the issue out was absolutely unforgivable. That was ugly. Inappropriate. He’s our only son for God’s sake. But, he seemed to have realized his mistake. He was apologetic the last time I visited him. He was ill and hence I had had a doctor to tend to him. I was diagnosed with cancer and given a time limit too but I had lost all interest. I was just going through the motions of living out the rest of my life.
********
So, finally, I was going to visit him. I was so excited. It’s been a long while. But, he hadn’t always been happy with me anyway. He used to brood for hours on end just to calm himself down. But, when greener pastures beckon, one must grab the opportunity with both hands. I myself did respect the decision. This place is pure heaven! And the place is so serene and tranquil, that I fell in love with it the moment I entered.
“Hi mom… How are you? Long time no see!!”
“You still haven’t changed, have you Mr. Arun?”
“Mom, I’m so happy that you’ve come. You won’t go back, won’t you? I missed you a lot.”
“No dear I won’t be going back. I’ve informed dad. He said that he’ll also be here in a month or two, maybe even less. It all depends.”
“Thank goodness. I was beginning to wonder whether I would ever get to see you again.”
“You’ll forever remain mama’s boy. Oh! When are you going to grow up, mister? I missed you a lot, you know…” I said, tears flowing down my transparent cheek. I wiped them with my gaseous hands.
We embraced. It was a strange feeling. A bit awkward, to be precise.
~~~~~~The end~~~~~~~
God is never kind to the hard-workers...
“So again you’re late for work. What bloody excuse will you give today?”
I keep my eyes focused on the floor and replied “ma’am, my son had fever. I needed to take him to a doctor.”
“Bloody hell! Today, it is your son. Tomorrow, it’ll be you. Why don’t you go work in a hospital instead of coming here huh?”
Anger rose within me but I gritted my teeth, urged myself to keep calm, and said “ma’am I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“Fish! This is the third time this month. I don’t need you for work from next month. Find another job.”
I silently assess the number of tiles under my feet. These are just empty threats, I say to myself. Finding someone like me is difficult nowadays. I smile.
“What the hell are you standing there for? Go wash the dishes and get Colgate from the stores.”
So that’s it. Just a few minutes of role- call everyday and life gets back to normal. You might have guessed who I am then. I’m Rani, a housemaid.
Things never looked rosy for me right from the day when I dropped out from school to become a housemaid. Life has been one living hell, I thought sadly.
For the next two hours, I dutifully finished all the household chores, all the while witnessing the family whispering complaints and to-hell-with-her comments. The heads of this family treated me with as much kindness as they would reserve for a stray dog. The children, however, treat me better, calling me in respectful tones but even then, they cringe their mouths and twitch their noses.
I have willed myself to get used to people scowling at me wherever I go. At least that way, I get attention, I say to myself. You would almost believe that I have committed a murder just looking at these people’s faces. I still don’t understand why the people treat me this way. I’m not good-looking and maybe, a little shabbily dressed but I certainly deserve better. Well, I cannot dictate what I deserve or don’t, I’m just a small insignificant part of the society.
I had to ask them. I dared not to wait longer. With a bit of luck they might agree. With a bit of luck.
“ma’am, could you spare me Rs. 1000 please? I need to send my children to school. They need to buy books and cloths. Please ma’am…You can deduct it from my next month's pay ma'am... ”
“Don't talk to me like that! How dare you tell me what to do, huh? Why do you send your children to such high-class schools if you can’t afford it?” they ask me.
How can I not? Do not my children deserve better? Would I bear to see them treated the same way as I am? Do not they deserve a better life than mine? Do not their children deserve to grow up to be great film stars, great leaders? I’ve lived this life enough. I fear to let my children feel the pain of this profession.
And I thought of my own husband at home. The poor guy. Every night, he comes home drunk and beats me up. But still, I feel for him. He works so hard in that construction site just to bring back a few pennies, notwithstanding the fact that most of it is used up in getting himself drunk. I myself have a salary of only about Rs. 900 per month. There are no day-offs in this profession.
The tougher and more dangerous the job, the less is the pay, I thought. Look at those construction workers. Look at all those stunt artists. They risk their life so that the hero can smile to the camera. And even when I complete extra work like washing the toilets and cleaning the fans, the family conveniently passes it off as a compensation for all the days I arrived late.
There is only a certain limit of tolerance but for us, suicide is not the option. Every story has a twist but not mine. The only saving grace is when I’m home and tired… I get to lie on my son’s feet and sleep peacefully until the new dawn...
I keep my eyes focused on the floor and replied “ma’am, my son had fever. I needed to take him to a doctor.”
“Bloody hell! Today, it is your son. Tomorrow, it’ll be you. Why don’t you go work in a hospital instead of coming here huh?”
Anger rose within me but I gritted my teeth, urged myself to keep calm, and said “ma’am I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“Fish! This is the third time this month. I don’t need you for work from next month. Find another job.”
I silently assess the number of tiles under my feet. These are just empty threats, I say to myself. Finding someone like me is difficult nowadays. I smile.
“What the hell are you standing there for? Go wash the dishes and get Colgate from the stores.”
So that’s it. Just a few minutes of role- call everyday and life gets back to normal. You might have guessed who I am then. I’m Rani, a housemaid.
Things never looked rosy for me right from the day when I dropped out from school to become a housemaid. Life has been one living hell, I thought sadly.
For the next two hours, I dutifully finished all the household chores, all the while witnessing the family whispering complaints and to-hell-with-her comments. The heads of this family treated me with as much kindness as they would reserve for a stray dog. The children, however, treat me better, calling me in respectful tones but even then, they cringe their mouths and twitch their noses.
I have willed myself to get used to people scowling at me wherever I go. At least that way, I get attention, I say to myself. You would almost believe that I have committed a murder just looking at these people’s faces. I still don’t understand why the people treat me this way. I’m not good-looking and maybe, a little shabbily dressed but I certainly deserve better. Well, I cannot dictate what I deserve or don’t, I’m just a small insignificant part of the society.
I had to ask them. I dared not to wait longer. With a bit of luck they might agree. With a bit of luck.
“ma’am, could you spare me Rs. 1000 please? I need to send my children to school. They need to buy books and cloths. Please ma’am…You can deduct it from my next month's pay ma'am... ”
“Don't talk to me like that! How dare you tell me what to do, huh? Why do you send your children to such high-class schools if you can’t afford it?” they ask me.
How can I not? Do not my children deserve better? Would I bear to see them treated the same way as I am? Do not they deserve a better life than mine? Do not their children deserve to grow up to be great film stars, great leaders? I’ve lived this life enough. I fear to let my children feel the pain of this profession.
And I thought of my own husband at home. The poor guy. Every night, he comes home drunk and beats me up. But still, I feel for him. He works so hard in that construction site just to bring back a few pennies, notwithstanding the fact that most of it is used up in getting himself drunk. I myself have a salary of only about Rs. 900 per month. There are no day-offs in this profession.
The tougher and more dangerous the job, the less is the pay, I thought. Look at those construction workers. Look at all those stunt artists. They risk their life so that the hero can smile to the camera. And even when I complete extra work like washing the toilets and cleaning the fans, the family conveniently passes it off as a compensation for all the days I arrived late.
There is only a certain limit of tolerance but for us, suicide is not the option. Every story has a twist but not mine. The only saving grace is when I’m home and tired… I get to lie on my son’s feet and sleep peacefully until the new dawn...
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Shah Rukh, Hitler, Lekha and Michael...
Re-post on the occasion of Michael Jackson's birthday
May 30th,2008.
3:30 pm
I was watching T.V. when suddenly Shah Rukh Khan appeared on screen promoting yet another item. Wow, the man is great. I believe everything he touches turns to gold. But sometimes I do think he exerts himself too much and promotes one too many items. So, it was no surprise for me that his panchvi pass failed and his antics with the Kolkata Knight Riders fell flat.
In fact, I was watching IPL the other day and I couldn't help but notice how desperately Lekha Washington wants to be the darling of the press. You see, I might be wrong but I 'think' I can see her yearning for success, sinking to new lows each passing day. Well, I mean, she was excellent when she was the VJ in SS music, I particularly liked her bubbly attitude and a sense of carelessness reminiscent in children. But after she was unceremoniously dropped from Kettavan, I see all of that disappearing. And now, she interviews the "greats of the game" in a sombre and dour mood. There is absolutely no trace of her proactiveness and her keen interest in people. I do feel sorry for her. I'm her great fan you know.All this made me wonder whether it was just fate that these two people turned out the way they were or whether something else that determined their destiny.
I heard from my friend the other day that names really do play an important role in one's success. I was tempted to find out. Luckily, I had a book on star signs by Bejan Daruwalla, so I decided to check it out. It had a section on numerology which really turned me on. So, I decided to check for Shah Rukh Khan first. So here was what I found out.
3+5+1+5+2+6+2+5+2+5+1+5=42. Here was 42's interpretation."Good for the arts. Your opposite number will help you. Signifies gifts and good fortune. You score in relationships. Group activities suit you best. It warns against dangers from falls."Atleast 80% true, right?Ok, so then I decided to check on Lekha Washington. Here was her score.
3+5+2+5+1+6+1+3+5+1+5+3+4+7+5=56. It's interpretation was" Nervous. Fond of luxury, pomp, show. A fine patron of the arts. Not an altogether happy number. Ambition could mock useful toil, and conceit could lead to ruin. "Wow... What do you say to that?So then I got really really interested and decided to check out a few more.
My favourite star, Micheal Jackson (44) for example.Here is his interpretation based of 44." The two fours suggest fatality, dignity and strength. Greed and avarice usually bring the downfall of this number. A strong BUT unhappy name valuation. "How closer to the truth can it get ?
I also found out about Karan Johar (27). " A number of puissance, fame, tremendous creativity. Do not be swayed by outside influence or guidance.Rather, go your own way, rely on your judgement. A high voltage, magnetic number. A name valuation of prosperity. "What more can I say ?There were also terrifying interpretations of Adlof Hitler (End will be sudden...) and of Napolean Bonaparte (Defeat after initial success and glory...). I started to believe in this. But I must also admit some of them were wide off-target.
I'm not here to promote numerology nor do I condemn it. But i do feel for Lekha. The valuation of her first name (16) also isn't that good. In fact, it is worse than her first valuation." A good beginning but a poor end is the significance of this number. It shows a fall from power, grace, office, position. Unexpected shock or catastrophe is associated with this number. "I'm not saying that this will be the end of the world for Lekha. I'm not saying that her career won't flourish or that she'll fall from power or grace. In fact, from what I have known of her from news-reports or from her shows, I know that she is strong-willed and courageous. But, I brought up the topic just because i was afraid that, god forbid, she isn't able to fulfil her potential.Lekha, there is no way you'll read my blog or even know about it but if there is a God out there, maybe he will see to it that somehow you get to see it. I'm a great fan of yours and I don't like you to not enjoy yourself or even smile for the camera with that childish innocence... and beauty. God bless you.
May 30th,2008.
3:30 pm
I was watching T.V. when suddenly Shah Rukh Khan appeared on screen promoting yet another item. Wow, the man is great. I believe everything he touches turns to gold. But sometimes I do think he exerts himself too much and promotes one too many items. So, it was no surprise for me that his panchvi pass failed and his antics with the Kolkata Knight Riders fell flat.
In fact, I was watching IPL the other day and I couldn't help but notice how desperately Lekha Washington wants to be the darling of the press. You see, I might be wrong but I 'think' I can see her yearning for success, sinking to new lows each passing day. Well, I mean, she was excellent when she was the VJ in SS music, I particularly liked her bubbly attitude and a sense of carelessness reminiscent in children. But after she was unceremoniously dropped from Kettavan, I see all of that disappearing. And now, she interviews the "greats of the game" in a sombre and dour mood. There is absolutely no trace of her proactiveness and her keen interest in people. I do feel sorry for her. I'm her great fan you know.All this made me wonder whether it was just fate that these two people turned out the way they were or whether something else that determined their destiny.
I heard from my friend the other day that names really do play an important role in one's success. I was tempted to find out. Luckily, I had a book on star signs by Bejan Daruwalla, so I decided to check it out. It had a section on numerology which really turned me on. So, I decided to check for Shah Rukh Khan first. So here was what I found out.
3+5+1+5+2+6+2+5+2+5+1+5=42. Here was 42's interpretation."Good for the arts. Your opposite number will help you. Signifies gifts and good fortune. You score in relationships. Group activities suit you best. It warns against dangers from falls."Atleast 80% true, right?Ok, so then I decided to check on Lekha Washington. Here was her score.
3+5+2+5+1+6+1+3+5+1+5+3+4+7+5=56. It's interpretation was" Nervous. Fond of luxury, pomp, show. A fine patron of the arts. Not an altogether happy number. Ambition could mock useful toil, and conceit could lead to ruin. "Wow... What do you say to that?So then I got really really interested and decided to check out a few more.
My favourite star, Micheal Jackson (44) for example.Here is his interpretation based of 44." The two fours suggest fatality, dignity and strength. Greed and avarice usually bring the downfall of this number. A strong BUT unhappy name valuation. "How closer to the truth can it get ?
I also found out about Karan Johar (27). " A number of puissance, fame, tremendous creativity. Do not be swayed by outside influence or guidance.Rather, go your own way, rely on your judgement. A high voltage, magnetic number. A name valuation of prosperity. "What more can I say ?There were also terrifying interpretations of Adlof Hitler (End will be sudden...) and of Napolean Bonaparte (Defeat after initial success and glory...). I started to believe in this. But I must also admit some of them were wide off-target.
I'm not here to promote numerology nor do I condemn it. But i do feel for Lekha. The valuation of her first name (16) also isn't that good. In fact, it is worse than her first valuation." A good beginning but a poor end is the significance of this number. It shows a fall from power, grace, office, position. Unexpected shock or catastrophe is associated with this number. "I'm not saying that this will be the end of the world for Lekha. I'm not saying that her career won't flourish or that she'll fall from power or grace. In fact, from what I have known of her from news-reports or from her shows, I know that she is strong-willed and courageous. But, I brought up the topic just because i was afraid that, god forbid, she isn't able to fulfil her potential.Lekha, there is no way you'll read my blog or even know about it but if there is a God out there, maybe he will see to it that somehow you get to see it. I'm a great fan of yours and I don't like you to not enjoy yourself or even smile for the camera with that childish innocence... and beauty. God bless you.
Friday, August 29, 2008
There's a Ghost in my soup !!!
I’ve been really suffering from being over-worked these past few days. I’ve tried balancing my day. I work for just six hours a day now, but it still isn’t enough. Sometimes, you wish that you’d be lucky to have fewer people to tend to, but, for me, there is no such luck, what with my wife and two children and an entire joint family all the way from my mom to my third cousin to boot. Self-pity is uncalled for.
I'm a non-believer. In apparitions, ghosts and humans. I also happen to be a doctor. A young aspiring doctor.
“Doctor Vasanth, a phone call for you…”
“Alright!! Get me line 3, now…”
“Dr. Vasanth here. Who is this?”
“I’m Dr. Vasanth’s wife ! Is he available ?”
“No… He’s busy right now… Could you call back later?”
“Of course not.. Hey, listen honey… You know my friend Ramya ? She is home. It seems her daughter Saranya wants to buy a few clothes for herself. Take her out for shopping, will you ?”
“Hey, absolutely no chance… I’ve lots of work pending… I’ll not be able to spare time. And that Ramya is an idiot. She and her ghost tales. I’m sorry dear but I’ll not be able to do it…”
“Dear, I’ve already asked the driver to drop her at your office…”
“What the…”
“She’ll be there any moment…”
Knock.. Knock…
“One second…” I take my ear off the receiver. “Yes… Come in…”
“Sir, someone called Saranya wants to meet you… She said it was important…”
“Important, my foot!! Ok… I’ll be there in a mo…” I tell my assistant and wave her away. I put the receiver back on my ear “Hey, are you on the phone ? Hello… Hello…”
******
I have never had my way, ever. In fact, the only time that my wife agreed to me was when I proposed to her. So, here I was, with this crazy 8 year old, in absurd pink top and green(!) pants, by my side.
“Uncle, I want that yellow one over there…”
“Uncle, this black pant is so cute… Could I have this too?”
“Oh… that orange shirt would go perfectly with my black pant?”
“Uncle, how could I miss that green top over there?”
“Uncle, are you sure you aren’t going to buy yourself anything?”
At the end of that one hour, I left my entire wallet and half my life at the store.
*******
I was happy to finally get on my car and drive back home. Even if it meant that I had to share my car with my new ‘niece’.
“Uncle, have you ever watched powerpuff girls on tv? It’s a great serial. I love it!!!”
She didn’t wait for my reply.
“Uncle, are we near your house? Then, please drop me here. I’ll walk and come. I want to surprise my mom.”
I opened the door to let her step out. I was happy to let her walk. That would rid me of her atleast for a few minutes. I looked at my house and smiled. My dear wife would be waiting. With lots of love and… and… Oh dear ! Ramya !
My grin turned to a grimace. Ramya and her antics ! As if I would fall for her stories of ghosts and apparitions ! There was nothing more absurd. I looked back. I could see Saranya in the distance, ambling up with four bags of clothes. I decided to take a chance.
******
“So, there you are ! Finally… We’ve been waiting for you !!! See..Ramya !!”
I looked at her. The same old Ramya, it was. Porky face and all…
“And, take a look behind me…”
She stepped aside.
There she was. Saranya !! The same pink top and green(!) pant. My heart skipped and my head spun. I could rememeber no more. I dropped to the ground.
*****
“Poor fellow… I don’t know what happened… He seemed shocked on seeing you Lavanya ! Oh well… He’ll come around… And there’s your sister… How was your shopping Saranya ?”
“What happened to uncle ?”
“I don’t know dear…”
“He was so nice…”
“He’ll be fine…Don’t worry…”
*****
I'm a non-believer. In apparitions, ghosts and humans. I also happen to be a doctor. A young aspiring doctor.
“Doctor Vasanth, a phone call for you…”
“Alright!! Get me line 3, now…”
“Dr. Vasanth here. Who is this?”
“I’m Dr. Vasanth’s wife ! Is he available ?”
“No… He’s busy right now… Could you call back later?”
“Of course not.. Hey, listen honey… You know my friend Ramya ? She is home. It seems her daughter Saranya wants to buy a few clothes for herself. Take her out for shopping, will you ?”
“Hey, absolutely no chance… I’ve lots of work pending… I’ll not be able to spare time. And that Ramya is an idiot. She and her ghost tales. I’m sorry dear but I’ll not be able to do it…”
“Dear, I’ve already asked the driver to drop her at your office…”
“What the…”
“She’ll be there any moment…”
Knock.. Knock…
“One second…” I take my ear off the receiver. “Yes… Come in…”
“Sir, someone called Saranya wants to meet you… She said it was important…”
“Important, my foot!! Ok… I’ll be there in a mo…” I tell my assistant and wave her away. I put the receiver back on my ear “Hey, are you on the phone ? Hello… Hello…”
******
I have never had my way, ever. In fact, the only time that my wife agreed to me was when I proposed to her. So, here I was, with this crazy 8 year old, in absurd pink top and green(!) pants, by my side.
“Uncle, I want that yellow one over there…”
“Uncle, this black pant is so cute… Could I have this too?”
“Oh… that orange shirt would go perfectly with my black pant?”
“Uncle, how could I miss that green top over there?”
“Uncle, are you sure you aren’t going to buy yourself anything?”
At the end of that one hour, I left my entire wallet and half my life at the store.
*******
I was happy to finally get on my car and drive back home. Even if it meant that I had to share my car with my new ‘niece’.
“Uncle, have you ever watched powerpuff girls on tv? It’s a great serial. I love it!!!”
She didn’t wait for my reply.
“Uncle, are we near your house? Then, please drop me here. I’ll walk and come. I want to surprise my mom.”
I opened the door to let her step out. I was happy to let her walk. That would rid me of her atleast for a few minutes. I looked at my house and smiled. My dear wife would be waiting. With lots of love and… and… Oh dear ! Ramya !
My grin turned to a grimace. Ramya and her antics ! As if I would fall for her stories of ghosts and apparitions ! There was nothing more absurd. I looked back. I could see Saranya in the distance, ambling up with four bags of clothes. I decided to take a chance.
******
“So, there you are ! Finally… We’ve been waiting for you !!! See..Ramya !!”
I looked at her. The same old Ramya, it was. Porky face and all…
“And, take a look behind me…”
She stepped aside.
There she was. Saranya !! The same pink top and green(!) pant. My heart skipped and my head spun. I could rememeber no more. I dropped to the ground.
*****
“Poor fellow… I don’t know what happened… He seemed shocked on seeing you Lavanya ! Oh well… He’ll come around… And there’s your sister… How was your shopping Saranya ?”
“What happened to uncle ?”
“I don’t know dear…”
“He was so nice…”
“He’ll be fine…Don’t worry…”
*****
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