How often we come across people with whom we get connected so well that we can read their thoughts. This is the place where a lot of us might feel connected to each other by a similar sort of telepathy
Monday, August 29, 2011
When Opportunity knocks... MAKE USE OF IT !!!!
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
True love is an acceptance of all that is
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Never ever lie to a woman ;)
We'll be gone for a week. This is a good opportunity for me to get that promotion I've been wanting, so could you please pack enough clothes for a week and set out my rod and fishing box, we're leaving from the office & I will swing by the house to pick my things up' 'Oh! Please pack my new blue silk pyjamas. '
The wife thinks this sounds a bit fishy but being the good wife she is, did exactly what her husband asked.
The following weekend he came home a little tired but otherwise looking good.
The wife welcomed him home and asked if he caught many fish?
He said, 'Yes! Lots of salmons, some bluegills, and a few swordfishes. But why didn't you pack my new blue silk pyjamas like I asked you to Do?'
You'll love the answer,folks......
The wife replied, 'I did, dear. They're in your fishing box! ...'
Thursday, July 28, 2011
OVERDUE
Mr. Sharma comes home one night and his wife throws her arms around his neck: I have great news... I'm a month overdue. I think we're going to have a baby!!! The doctor gave me a test today but until we find out for sure, we can't tell anybody."
"I don't know. I guess she'd have to use a candle." |
Man, Wife and Dog
Unusual funeral procession A funeral coffin was followed by a second one
About 50 feet behind the first. Behind the second coffin was a solitary
man Walking with a black dog. Behind him was a queue of 200 men walking
in Single line. The man couldn't stand his curiosity.
He approached the man walking with the dog, "I am so sorry for your
loss, And I know now is a bad time to disturb you, but I've never seen a
funeral Like this with so many of you walking in single line. Whose
funeral is It?"
The man replied, "Well, that first coffin is for my wife."
"What happened to her?"
The man replied, "My dog attacked and killed her."
He inquired further, "Well, who is in the second coffin?"
The man answered, "My mother-in-law. She was trying to help my wife when
the dog attacked and killed her also."
A thoughtful moment of silence passes between the two men. Then the
first One asks in excitement, "Can I borrow the dog?"
The man replied, "Join the queue.... :-)
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Who is a boy / man ?
Monday, June 20, 2011
Does Love need a reason?
The girl I met in train
For those who think they know everything
A congressman was seated next to a little girl on the airplane leaving from Atlanta when he turned to her and said,'Let's talk'.
I've heard that flights go quicker if you strike up a conversation with your fellow passenger.'The little girl, who had just opened her book, closed it slowly and said to the total stranger, 'What would you like to talk about?'
'Oh, I don't know,' said the congressman.
'How about global warming or universal health care', and he smiles smugly.
'OK,' she said. 'Those could be interesting topics.
But let me ask you a question first.
A Horse, a Cow, and a Deer all eat the same stuff - grass.
Yet a deer excretes little pellets, while a cowturns out a flat patty, and a horse produces clumps of dried grass.
'Why do you suppose that is?'
The legislator, visibly surprised by the little girl's intelligence, thinks about it and says, 'Hmmm, I have no idea.'
To which the little girl replies, 'Do you really feel qualified to discuss global warming or universal health care when you don't know shit!’
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Love never fades, It only changes it's shades
Second Chance
Give your 100% in a relationship
A boy and a girl were playing together. The boy had a collection of marbles. The girl had some sweets with her. The boy told the girl, he will give her all his marbles in exchange of her sweets. The girl agreed.
The boy kept the biggest and the most beautiful marble aside and gave the rest to the girl. The girl gave him all his sweets as she had promised. That night, the girl slept peacefully but the boy couldn’t sleep. He kept on wondering if the girl has hidden some sweets from him as he had hidden his best marble.
Moral of the Story: If you don’t give hundred percent in a relationship you will keep doubting if the other person has given his/her hundred percent. Give your hundred percent to everything you do and sleep peacefully.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Lateral Thinking
A DATE WITH A WOMAN!!!
Brain vs GirlFriend
What Goes Around, Comes Around, Evil For Evil, Good For Good
Three wishes of a Woman
The Cut Off - by Chetan Bhagat
I sat with my best friend Neeraj and his girlfriend Anjali at Costa Coffee, DLF Metropolitan Mall in Saket. The coffee is way overpriced, but considering I had a day to live, I didn’t mind getting ripped off.
“The joke isn’t that funny,” Neeraj said, tearing open the second sachet of brown sugar and mixing it for his girlfriend. If this girl can’t mix sugar in her coffee, I wonder what she will be like after marriage.
“Do I look like I am joking? You are in medical college, and as a friend and someone two years elder to me, I am asking your advice on what is the most painless, graceful way to go. And ideally, it should be available at the friendly neighbourhood chemist,” I said. I ordered a chocolate fudge cake. What are a few extra calories on your last day?
Anjali kept quiet, her iPod plugged in her ears. She had come to the mall to shop with her boyfriend rather than meet me. Neeraj said he only dated Anjali as her father had given her a car and driver, which made it easy to go around. Besides, she looked ok. She was pretty enough to invite a second stare from men, though that’s hardly an achievement in Delhi where men’s standards can be quite modest.
“Dude, you topped your school. How much did you score in your class XII boards again?” Neeraj said.
“Ninety two per cent,” I said.
“Ninety what?” Neeraj said as he ripped out Anjali’s earphones, “Anjali, the dude scored ninety two per cent in commerce! Do you know of anyone who has scored that much?”
Anjali shook her head.
“Wow, you must have studied a lot,” she said.
I nodded. I had done nothing but study in the last two years.
“No time for hobbies?” she said.
I shook my head. My only hobbies were eating three meals and sleeping five hours a day. The rest of the time was with my books.
“With ninety two, you should be fine,” Neeraj said.
“Not according to SRCC, not according to Stephen’s and not according to Hindu, oh what the heck,” I said as I opened my rucksack.
I gave him the special admissions supplement from the newspaper. I had snucked it out early morning so mom and dad wouldn’t see it.
“Wow, check out Lady Sri Ram. B.Com Honours is at 95.5 per cent!” Neeraj said.
“That’s a girl’s college,” Anjali said.
“I know,” I said.
“Don’t worry, he wouldn’t have made it anyway. Anjali, why don’t you go spend some of your father’s money,” Neeraj said and winked at me.
Anjali and I both gave Neeraj a dirty look. Neeraj air-kissed Anjali and gestured to her to leave.
Seriously, don’t kill yourself. To us, you are still the school topper,” Neeraj said after Anjali left.
“So what do I do?” I said, my voice loud, “stay back in school? This topper tag makes things worse. My parents already threw a party for our friends and relatives like I have made it big time in life. I cut a cake with the icing ‘family superstar’.”
“Nice,” Neeraj said.
“Not nice at all. All relatives congratulated my mother. They see me as the next hotshot investment banker on Wall Street. The least they expect me to do is get into a good college in DU.”
“There are still some colleges that you will get,” Neeraj said as I cut him off.
“But none with the same brand value. Thus, you can’t get a decent job after them. You can’t get into the top MBA school.”
Neeraj pushed my coffee cup towards me. I hadn’t touched it. I picked it up and brought it close to my mouth but couldn’t drink it.
“I made one tiny calculation error in my math paper,” I said, “read one stupid unit conversion wrong. That’s it. If only...”
“If only you could chill out. You are going to college, dude! Branded or not, it is always fun.”
“Screw fun,” I said. “What kind of kids are they taking in anyway?” Neeraj said, “you have to be a bean-counter stickler to get ninety seven per cent. Like someone who never takes chances and revises the paper twenty times.”
“I don’t know, I revised it five times. That stupid calculation...”
“Gautam, relax. That paper is done. And sticklers don’t do well in life. Innovative and imaginative people do.”
“That’s not what DU thinks. You don’t understand, my father has proclaimed in his office I will join SRCC. I can’t go to him with a second rung college admission. It’s like his whole life image will alter. Hell, I won’t be able to deal with it myself.”
An SMS from Anjali on Neeraj’s phone interrupted our conversation. At Kimaya, tried fab dress. Come urgently, want your opinion. Neeraj typed the reply back. Honey, it looks great. Buy it.
Neeraj grinned as he showed me his response. “I think you should go,” I said. Rich dads’ daughters can throw pretty nasty tantrums. Neeraj took out the money for coffee. I stopped him. “My treat,” I said. Leave people happy on your last day, I thought. “Of course, I take this as your treat for cracking your boards,” Neeraj said and smiled. He ruffled my hair and left. I came out of the mall and took an auto home.
I met my parents at the dinner table. “So when will the university announce the cut-offs?” my father said.
“In a few days,” I said. I looked up at the dining table fan. No, I couldn’t hang myself. I can’t bear suffocation.
My mother cut mangoes after dinner. The knife made me think of slitting my wrists. Too painful, I thought and dropped the idea.
“So now, my office people are asking me, ‘when is our party?’,” my father said as he took a slice.
“I told you to call them to the party we did for neighbours and relatives,” my mother said.
“How will they fit with your brothers and sisters? My office people are very sophisticated,” my father said.
“My brothers are no less sophisticated. They went to Singapore last year on vacation. At least they are better than your family,” she said.
My father laughed at my mother’s sullen expression. His happiness levels had not receded since the day I received my result.
“My office people want drinks, not food. Don’t worry, I’ll do another one for them when he gets into SRCC or Stephen’s.”
My father worked in the sales division of Tata Tea. We had supplied our entire set of neighbours with free tea for the last five years. As a result, we had more well-wishers than I’d have liked.
“Even my country head called to congratulate me for Gautam. He said – nothing like Stephen’s for your brilliant son,” my father said.
“Gupta aunty came from next door. She wanted to see if you can help her daughter who is in class XI,” my mother said.
Is she pretty, I wanted to ask, but didn’t. It didn’t matter. I came to my room post dinner. I hadn’t quite zeroed down on the exact method, but thought I should start working on the suicide letter anyway. I didn’t want it to be one of the clichéd ones – I love you all and it is no one’s fault, and I’m sorry mom and dad. Yuck, just like first impressions, last impressions are important too. In fact, I didn’t want to do any silly suicide letter. When it is your last, you’d better make it important. I decided to write it to the education minister. I switched on my computer and went to the Education Department website. Half the site links were broken. There was a link called “What after class XII?” I clicked on it, it took me to a blank page with an under construction sign. I sighed as I closed the site. I opened Microsoft Word to type.
Dear Education Minister,
I hope you are doing fine and the large staff of your massive bungalow is treating you well. I won’t take much of your time.
I’ve passed out of class XII and I’ve decided to end my life. I scored ninety-two per cent in my boards, and I have a one foot high trophy from my school for scoring the highest. However, there are so many trophy holding students in this country and so few college seats, that I didn’t get into a college that will train me to the next level or open up good opportunities.
I know I have screwed up. I should have worked harder to get another three per cent. However, I do want to point out a few things to you. When my parents were young, certain colleges were considered prestigious. Now, forty years later, the same colleges are considered prestigious. What’s interesting is that no new colleges have come up with the same brand or reputation level. Neither have the seats expanded in existing colleges fast enough to accommodate the rising number of students.
I’ll give you an example. Just doing some meaningless surfing, I saw that 3.8 lakh candidates took the CBSE class XII exam in 1999, a number that has grown to 8.9 lakh in 2009. This is just one board, and if you take ICSE and all other state boards, the all India total number is over ten times that of CBSE. We probably had one crore students taking the class XII exam this year.
While not everyone can get a good college seat, I just want to talk about the so-called good students. The top 10 per cent alone of these one crore students is ten lakh children. Yes, these ten lakh students are their class toppers. In a class of fifty, they will have the top-5 ranks.
One could argue that these bright kids deserve a good college to realise their full potential. Come to think of it, it would be good for our country too if we train our bright children well to be part of the new, shining, gleaming, glistening or whatever you like to call the globalised India.
But then, it looks like you have stopped making universities. Are there ten lakh top college seats in the country? Are there even one lakh? Ever wondered what happens to the rest of us, year after year? Do we join a second rung college? A deemed university? A distance learning programme? A degree in an expensive, racist country?
Your government runs a lot of things. You run an airline that never makes money. You run hotels. You want to be involved in making basic stuff like steel and aluminum, which can easily be made by more efficient players. However, in something as important as
shaping the young generation, you have stepped back. You have stopped making new universities. Why?
You have all the land you want, teachers love to get a government job, education funds are never questioned. Still, why? Why don’t we have new, A-grade universities in every state capital for instance?
Oh well, sorry. I am over reacting. If only I had not done that calculation error in my math paper, I’d be fine. In fact, I am one of the lucky ones. In four years, the number of candidates will double. So then we will have a college that only has 99 per cent scorers.
My parents were a bit deluded about my abilities, and I do feel bad for them. I didn’t have a girlfriend or too many friends, as people who want to get into a good college are not supposed to have a life. If only I knew that slogging for twelve years would not amount to much, I’d have had more fun.
Apart from that, do well, and say hello to the PM, who as I understand, used to teach in college.
Yours truly,
Gautam
(Poor student)
I took a printout of the letter and kept it in my pocket. I decided to do the act the next morning. I woke up as the maid switched off the fan to sweep the room. She came inside and brought a box of sweets. A fifty-year-old woman, she had served us for over ten years. “What?” I said as she gave me the box. It had kaju-barfi, from one of the more expensive shops in the city. The maid had spent a week’s salary distributing sweets to anyone known to her. “My son passed class XII,” she said as she started her work. “How much did he score?” I said, still rubbing my eyes. “Forty two per cent. He passed English too,” she said as her face beamed with pride. “What will he do now?” I said. “I don’t know. Maybe his own business, he can repair mobile phones,” she said. I went to the bathroom for a shower. I realised the newspaper would have come outside. I ran out of the bathroom. I picked up the newspaper from the entrance floor. I took out the admissions supplement, crumpled it and threw it in the dustbin kept outside the house. I came back inside the house and went back into the shower.
I left the house mid-day. I took the metro to Chandni Chowk and asked my way to the industrial chemicals market. Even though I had left science after class X, I knew that certain chemicals like Copper Sulphate or Ammonium Nitrate could kill you. I bought a pack of both compounds. As I passed through the lanes of Chandni Chowk, I passed a tiny hundred square feet jalebi shop. It did brisk business. I thought my last meal had to be delicious. I went to the counter and took a quarter kilo of jalebis.
I took my plate and sat on one of the two rickety benches placed outside the shop.
A Muslim couple with a four-year-old boy came and sat on the next bench. The mother fed the boy jalebi and kissed him after each bite. It reminded me of my childhood and my parents, when they used to love me unconditionally and marks didn’t exist. I saw the box of Ammonium Nitrate and tears welled up in my eyes. I couldn’t eat the jalebis. I came back home. I wondered if I should use my chemicals before or after dinner. Maybe it is better after everyone has slept, I thought.
We sat at the dinner table. Dad had told mom not to cook as he’d brought Chinese takeaway for us. Mom brought the soya sauce, chilli oil and the vinegar with cut green chillies in little katoris. We ate American chopsuey on stainless steel plates. I looked at my watch, it was 8 pm. Three more hours, I thought as I let out a sigh.
“One thing Kalpana,” my father said to my mother, “job candidates aren’t what they used to be these days. I interviewed for new trainees today, disappointing.”
“Why, what happened?” my mother said.
“Like this boy from Stephen’s, very bright kid. But only when it came to his subjects.”
“Really?” my mother said.
“Yeah, but I asked him a different question. I said how would you go about having a tea-shop chain like the coffee shop chains, and he went blank,” my father said, an inch of noodle hanging outside his mouth. My mother removed it from his face.
“And then some kid from SRCC. He topped his college. But you should have seen his arrogance. Even before the interview starts, he says ‘I hope at the end of our meeting, you will be able to tell me why I should join Tata Tea and not another company’. Can you imagine? I am twice his age.”
I could tell my father was upset from his serious tone.
“If you ask me,” my father continued, “the best candidate was a boy from Bhopal. Sure, he didn’t get into a top college. But he was an eighty per cent student. And he said ‘I want to learn. And I want to show that you don’t need a branded college to do well in life. Good people do well anywhere.’ What a kid. Thank God we shortlisted him in the first place.”
“Did he get the job?” I said.
“Yes, companies need good workers, not posh certificates. And we are having a meeting to discuss our short listing criteria again. The top colleges are so hard to get in, only tunnel vision people are being selected.” “Then why are you asking him to join Stephen’s or SRCC?” my mother said.
My father kept quiet. He spoke after a pause. “Actually, after today, I’d say don’t just go by the name. Study the college, figure out their dedication, and make sure they don’t create arrogant nerds. Then whatever the brand, you will be fine. The world needs good people.”
I looked at my parents as they continued to talk. Excuse me, but I have a plan to execute here. And now you are confusing me, I thought. “So should I study some more colleges and make a decision after that?” I said. “Yes, of course. No need for herd-mentality. Kalpana you should have seen this boy from Bhopal.”
Post-dinner, my parents watched TV in the living room while eating fruits. I retracted to my room. I sat on my desk wondering what to do next. The landline phone rang in my parent’s room. I went inside and picked it up.
“Hello Gautam?” the voice on the other side said.
It was my father’s colleague from work. “Hello, Yash uncle,” I said. “Hi,” he said, “congratulations on your boards.” “Thanks uncle,” I said, “dad is in the living room finishing dinner, should I call him?” “Dinner? Oh, don’t disturb him. Just tell him his mobile is with me. It is safe. We were on a field trip today. He left it in my car.” “Field trip? For interviews?” I said. “What interviews? No, we just went to the Chandigarh office,” he said.
I wished him good night and hung up the phone. I switched on the bedside lamp in my parents’ room. Confused, I sat down on my father’s bed, wondering what to do next. To make space, I moved his pillow. Under the pillow lay a crumpled newspaper. I picked it up. It was the same admissions supplement I had tossed in the bin this morning. My father had circled the cut-offs table.
I left the newspaper there and came to the living room. My father was arguing with my mother over the choice of channels. I looked at my father. He smiled at me and offered me watermelon. I declined.
I came back to my room. I picked up the chemical boxes and took them to the toilet. I opened both boxes and poured the contents in the toilet commode. One press, and everything, everything flushed out.
“Gautam,” my mother knocked on the door, “I forgot to tell you. Gupta aunty came again. Can you teach her daughter?”
“Maybe,” I said as I came out of the toilet, “by the way, is she pretty?”
Wait for the Brick
React Vs. Respond
Suddenly, a cockroach flew from somewhere and sat on a lady. I wondered if this was the cockroach’s response to all the glory that was spoken about it!
She started screaming out of fear. With panic stricken face and trembling voice, she started jumping, with both her hands desperately trying to get rid of the cockroach. Her reaction was contagious, as everyone in her group got cranky to what was happening.
The lady finally managed to push the cockroach to another lady in the group. Now, it was the turn of the other lady in the group to continue the drama.
The waiter rushed forward to their rescue.
In the relay of throwing, the cockroach next fell upon the waiter. The waiter stood firm, composed himself and observed the behavior of the cockroach on his shirt. When he was confident enough, he grabbed and threw it out with his fingers.
Sipping my coffee and watching the amusement, the antenna of my mind picked up a few thoughts and started wondering, was the cockroach responsible for their histrionic behaviour? If so, then why was the waiter not disturbed?He handled it near to perfection, without any chaos.
It is not the cockroach, but the inability of the ladies to handle the disturbance caused by the cockroach that disturbed the ladies.
I realized even in my case then , it is not the shouting of my father or my boss that disturbs me, but it’s my inability to handle the disturbances caused by their shouting that disturbs me. It’s not the traffic jams on the road that disturbs me, but my inability to handle the disturbance caused by the traffic jam that disturbs me.
More than the problem, it’s my reaction to the problem that hurts me...
We should not react in life, we should always respond. Reactions are always instinctive whereas responses are always intellectual...
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Gates to Heaven
Strength of a Man and Beauty of a Woman
Husband and Wife..A humorous conversation
Four Wives
Friday, June 3, 2011
Dad vs Daughter
You have done a brilliant work Rajesh. You have been given….rrrrhhhhh……
I hurried down the stairs. I saw Meera, my sweet(??!!) wife, sitting in the couch giving breakfast to my 7yr old daughter Achala. Both looked happy, watching TV. I got confused at the whole scenario. I came running down, expecting some kind of earthquake, but instead here everything was in place. I looked at my wife & daughter. She smiled at me back. Now, I more got confused, what’s happening here? Am I in a dream?
‘Meera…’
‘Yeah Rajesh…’
‘You called me. In fact yelled.’
‘Yes. You are right!’
‘Everything is fine here right? Why you screamed like that then…’
‘It’s ‘cos it’s going to be 8am now.’
I couldn’t understand what she was trying to say. Is she playing some kind of prank? Is this the time for all these? I have to be in office by 9am for a meeting.
‘Yes. It’s going to be 8am.Right! So…?’
‘Rajesh, don’t tell me, you forgot…today is 27th ‘
‘27th..What 27th?
‘Don’t tell me you don’t remember?’
Meera gave me an ‘I’ll kill you’ look. Is it her birthday? No it’s somewhere at the year end. Is it my daughter’s? No no , we celebrated last month only right. Got it. Should be our Anniversary.
‘Hey Meera, How will I forget our Anniversary…’
‘Whaattttttt????….
Got it. It’s not our anniversary. Before I get killed…What’s w/ 27th. What ?? what?? Come on Rajesh!! Think. Nothing hit my mind. I looked at my daughter for a clue. She turned her face away. What’s with all women? Why can’t they be straight forward & say things. With so much work pressure, how on earth I am supposed to remember all the dates?. If I say something, then Meera will pick up a fight, and I will miss the meeting, my whole day will be gone. I made up my mind to surrender.
‘Meera, Sorry, I don’t remember. This medicine I am taking for cough, Something happened..my memory is deteriorating ..What’s today?’ Meera doesn’t seem like buying that excuse from me.
’Meera, please tell me’ I asked in a pitiable tone..
‘Rajesh..You don’t remember at all?’ I moved my head left & right meaning NO. I kept my face like I am a patient suffering from ‘amnesia'.
'Rajesh, As part of annual day celebrations, today is 'Daddy's Day' in Acchu's school. I have been telling you for the past 3 weeks. Now don’t tell me you forgot. You already promised that you will go with her to her school'
I couldn’t believe that I accepted for something like that. 'Meeraa..did I??'
'Yes. You did'
‘at what time it starts..?'
'By 8:30am and ends at 1pm'.
Gosh!! 9am!! I have such a critical meeting. How I will attend all these.
“Meera, you could have reminded me yesterday right?’
‘Oh I didn’t remind you? Great. I didn’t call to your office. Or remind you in the evening and before going to bed’
Might be I wouldn’t have heard it. Or slipped out of my memory. Whatever!!
'Meera! Can’t you attend all these. Why should I??'
"Rajesh. It’s Daddy's Day!...DADDY'ss!!!!!'
'Oh yeah....but...'
'But what????...'
'errrh....might be some other day...'
'What? You want the school to postpone the function?'
'No..No…actually..what..I am saying is..'
'What Rajesh??? What?? Tell me. You promised Acchu and are you going to disappoint her? '
I stood there totally helpless. I looked at my daughter. She was all dressed up and ready to go. She looked like, she will cry any time. I saw Meera. She gave me a murderous look. I thought for a moment and my mind raced with many calculations. Important meeting. I can’t miss for sure. Half a day is too much. So many deliverables will get affected. I can’t face Meera again if I don’t go. Might be I can postpone the meeting by an hour and for name sake visit that function and escape to office.
'Meera, I will go, but I can spend only 1 hour..'
'No...that’s not..'
Before Meera finished the sentence, Acchu rushed to me 'Thanks daddy. 1hour. Mom, 1hour is enough mom. Please don’t fight mom. Daddy, get ready soon..' she nudged me.
‘Do you know her school name and the route for the school or you want me to tell???’ Asking that Meera threw me an angry look and left the living room. I rushed up, got ready. Called my manager & told that I got stuck in traffic jam and postponed the meeting to 10am.
I took Achala to her school. I felt somehow entering the school, ‘cos it’s the 2nd time, I am entering her school. In fact 1st time. I once dropped her outside her school gate. The school had a big playground, Small Park with all kids playing equipment's. Some stalls were put up. So many kids with their fathers moved around here & there. Suddenly I felt some one touching my hand
‘Are you achala’s daddy?’ – A small kid asked. She had curly hair and bubbly smile.
‘Yes,,,My Daddy..…’ – Achala responded in an excited tone. And some kids ran towards me and Achala started introducing everyone.
‘Daddy! this is Rohit, this is zakir, Anis, Sylvia, Divya..’ – I told hello to everyone.
‘Daddy, Daddy, Zakir is my best friend.’ – I smiled at that cute blue eyed boy.
‘Uncle, Acchu told that you have so much work and you won’t be able to come. She told she won’t come in today. You don’t have work Uncle?’ – Zakir asked me.
I suddenly felt very bad on how my daughter has understood me. ‘No Zakir, I don’t have work’
‘Daddy, they are calling for the games. ‘ . Zakir ran to his father and waved his hands at me & achala. I took achala by hand and walked towards the stage. They were announcing the 1st game. Fathers will be given a sheet containing questions about their kids. Fathers have to fill about their kids which will be verified with the kids response.
Achala was all excited about the game and she was all set to go. But I felt shivers. I looked at my daughter. Suddenly, I felt very far from her, and the reality hit me, that I don’t know anything about my very own daughter. I blurted out ‘Acchu..we will attend the next game..This one ..’ She gave me a deep stare. I thought she is going to cry or shout or do something. But instead she pulled out a small paper from her jeans pocket and gave it to me. Completely baffled, I opened the sheet.
”My name is Achala. My birthday March 21st. I am 7yrs old. I like butterfly. Superman. Dairy milk. painting. dancing. I am in 1st standard A section. I like Dora. Mango. Apple. Fried rice. Jelly. I don’t like banana. I drink boost.. I like yellow color. My nick name is ‘Honey dew’”
And the list went on with small, small spelling mistakes. I looked at Acchu. ‘Daddy, read it, I know they will keep this game. So I wrote it 2 days back itself, to give you if you come. If they ask anything about me, write there. Ok Now go & attend the game’. Most of the things, my daughter has written & gave me, I never knew anything about it. I suddenly felt a lump in my throat. I went to the stage waved my hand to Acchu and got the question sheet. Since Acchu gave the sheet, I came to know about her & I answered almost all the questions. Then they asked Acchu on stage and asked the questions to her. We got the 2nd highest mark in that game. Acchu came running towards me and hugged me. They gave a ‘toy guitar’. Everyone congratulated us. Thou’ I won that game, I felt like a loser. I know, I don’t deserve this. I don’t know anything about my daughter.
She looked very happy showing that guitar to her best friend, zakir . What a kid she is. Understanding that her dad is totally hopeless and don’t want to let her dad down, before others she prepared that sheet and gave to me. The lump in my throat started getting bigger and my heart became heavy. I caressed her hair. What a beautiful smile she has and such big eyes. Does she miss a wing to get qualified as an angel? I have never admired my daughter or even watched her in all these years. She has that cute dimple of Meera’s as well as her eyes. Does that curling lip edges when she smiles, is mine? How I missed all this in my life.
Achala pulled me to the stalls there and I got some eatables and balloons for her and zakir.. She kept talking about the next game and suddenly my mobile rang. Oops!! Is it already 10am. I looked at Acchu . Suddenly her face became dark. She looked totally upset and asked in an low voice ‘Daddy! You have to leave now?’
I looked at my mobile. My manager was calling. It’s already 10am. I looked at Acchu. I looked around. All those happy kids with their fathers. I thought about my school days, where my dad used to come for all sports day, annual day, sit with me, cheer me up. Every day morning, while dropping me to school, he will wait near the gate until my head disappear. Evening, he will come & pick me up in his cycle, and I will be telling him all the stories that happened that day in school.
I saw Acchu. How many untold stories my daughter has kept in her heart to say me? I thought about all those days, where I yearned for a girl child and I wonder, how much of my time I gave her.
I pulled her closer, gave a kiss on her fore head ‘No Honey! I am not going. I will be here only…we will attend all games and roam around whole day.ok?’
‘Really?’ – She asked in an unbelievable tone.
‘Yes sweetz’
‘Thank you Daddy!’ – Achala kissed my cheeks and ran to her friends. School teaches you something or the other always. This time, ‘back to school’ has taught me a wonderful life’s lesson. I called my manager & told that am running high fever and can’t come in today. I know, I can handle things tomorrow. Today my daughter needs me more than anyone can need me in this world. With a lighter heart, I got up; ran towards Acchu, lifted her and gave her a big swing. She erupted into an uncontrollable laughter. The lump in my throat started melting away