Showing posts with label friend. Show all posts
Showing posts with label friend. Show all posts

Sunday, 1 August 2021

Let's Be Friends by Shristi Nangalia

16:00
“It’s Sunday! And it's friendship day! Let’s go fishing!” I was excited to test the new fishing rod that I bought. Coco, my Labrador, came running to me. Behind him, came my 9 year old son, Dhiru. But he did not look very happy.
“What happened, Dhiru? Why are you unhappy?” 
“Papa, why do we have to go fishing?” he asked in a sulky tone.
“Because... it is a holiday! Don’t you remember the fishes we caught last time?”
“Umm.. but don’t you think fishes like it more when they are under water? I mean, we only kill them for our dinner. We can have... veggies too...” he said.
“Woah, where is this coming from? You had so much fun the other day. I bought this new rod only for you.” I was confused and did not know what to say. Coco was staring at Dhiru too.
“Thank you for it, Papa. But I think we should not use the nature.”
“Use? Yeah, but we cannot do without using nature, buddy.”
“But we are using too much.... Everything of it. And in return, we give nothing.” Dhiru made me start to think.
“Who told you all this, Dhiru? The TV guys?” I really wanted to know.
“We had a guest at school yesterday. He talked to us. He is a conversationist.”
“Haha, you mean a conservationist.”
“Conservationist, yeah!” Dhiru continued... “He said... Our car harms the air, our garbage harms the soil, we use too much water everyday.... and now we are eating nature too...”
“We are eating nature?” I was dumbfounded.
“The animals, Papa! We are eating the nature! Nature has always given to us and we only use it without thinking.”
“But.. Coco likes to eat fish. And we love it too. Don’t we?”
“Yes Papa, but that’s not love. If we love fish, we should let them go. I cannot think of being killed and cooked... and eaten... and..”
“Don’t say that!!!” I shouted.
He went silent. He slowly put his head down in disappointment.  I put my head down too... in shame.
Coco got really stimulated seeing us sad. He vigorously started licking me and Dhiru’s face. Dhiru’s words, Coco’s expression, this silence... everything made me stop and... think.
“Papa, he said we have already used the amount of nature that was given to us for the whole year. It is only August. Now after this, whatever we will be using is not ours... not ours yet.”
“Really? It was the overshoot day?”
“Yes, the overshoot day. Look at Coco... the trees.. the lakes.. they are all our friends. They provide us with food, material and health... and company.” He made sense.
“Hehe, yes...”
“But only they do their part...like a friend. But we are not good friends to them. We only think about us. The wooden floor we are sitting on was once a green tree. They oil we use were beautiful flowers... Nature is all around us.. Helping us live.”
“That is true, Dhiru.” I understood what he was trying to say.
His face was still dull. I wanted to cheer him up.
“Come with me.” I said. Coco stood up at once and his eyes widened.
“Where are we going?” Dhiru asked.
“To the fishes.” I said with a straight face.
“Let’s just not go fishing, Papaaaa.” I could see tears forming in his eyes.
“No Dhiru, we aren’t going to fish. Let’s pick some fish food on the way and you can feed them all at the lake.” I smiled then.
“REALLYYYY... YAAAYYYY.” screamed Dhiru. Coco retorted with running around us.... jumping.
“Let’s just do what we can, from now on. Let’s be good friends to nature.”
“Yayyyyyy... Yes Papa, we will.” Dhiru’s eyes gleamed.
“Let’s go fast!” I said clapping my hands. Coco jumped more.
“Yes.. Let me get the car keys.” Dhiru stood up.
“No bud. We are walking.”

Thursday, 21 September 2017

Alzheimer killed her; I didn't. by Shristi Nangalia

21:00

A dried fern, a set of utensils, a bed, an old blanket and a ceiling fan. That is all that could fit in his small room, which he was about to leave forever. He had tears in his eyes. He was always confused about why only his room always looked very crowded and others didn’t. His was room no. 11... of the Criminal Cell. 
He was about to be 'discharged’ from his exile. His mother was sitting in the front row of the waiting hall. She was holding a steel box wrapped in her old saree.  She looked tired and rusted. The wrinkles on her cheeks deepened as she smiled to her son, coming from a distance. He did not smile back. He came closer and stared into his mother's eyes.
 'You cried last night.' said he, wiping his tears.
'Saanj baba, englis pura seekh gaya!'  She almost fell in his arms, not able to stop herself from crying out loud. They hugged after a long time... a long 3 years.
'Chal ghar chal, Rani aaj ischool nahi gayi hai tere liye.' She said, waiting for his answer.
'She will loose studies of one day.' He replied, again in english.
'Englis seekh rahi hai wo bhi.' A satisfied mother said as they stepped onto a rickshaw.
'Saanj bhai, kaisa hai re? Pehchana mujhe?' asked the rickshaw wala with a big smile.
'Anup. How are you?' said Saanj, remembering him this time.
'Very fine, very fine.' His smile curved even more.

They got down in front of a little snack shack. A short girl, with a book in one hand, waved to them from inside and came running to the rickshaw. She was about to hug his brother, Saanj, but hesistated. She asked instead, 'Bhai, kaisa hai tu? Patla ho gaya hai. Aman bhaiya sab kaise hain?'
He looked puzzled. He stared into nowhere for a moment and suddenly jerked his head and screamed, 'AAJU, AAAAAHH! Aaju ko bulao!!' He screamed with pain as he held his forehead with both hands! Anup and his mother held him tightly.
Rani started crying in despair. 'Aaju mar gayi hai, bhai!! Bhool ja usko!!'
Anup and maa kept holding him. Saanj’s screams slowed minutes later. He sat down teary eyed. Saanj's mother asked Anup to invite Karim chacha.

After a while, Saanj was lying on the bench behind the shack while Rani helped their mother in preparing lunch.
They prepared rice and baigan bhaaja, Saanj's favourite. Rani went behind the shack to call her brother, but he wasn't there. She screamed to her mother, 'M-Maa, bhai kahin chala gaya hai!' She instantly ran towards the two ends of the street and returned. There was no sign of him. She felt guilty of herself about not being careful. Rani then ran up to Anup bhaiya's place to inform him about Saanj’s absence. Anup, without second thought, went on a search and suggested Rani to go back to the shack.

After about an hour or so, Anup returned with Saanj in the rickshaw. Saanj got down and straightaway went inside the shack and started eating the rice and bhaaja kept on the table.
'Wo bus stand me baitha tha. Muje pehchanne se bhi inkaar kar raha tha.' said Anup in a low tone. 'Karim chacha?' asked Rani. 'Aayenge raat tak... clinic band karke.' said he, dissapointed.
Rani went to Saanj and asked, 'Bhai, chess khelega?'
Saanj replied, ' No.. I will win you.'
Rani laughed, 'Haha! Bhai galat bolta hai. I will win over you bol.'
Saanj tried to smile. 'Dukaan... Open when close when?'
Raani said, 'nine ko open, nine ko close.'
'You are in five class?' Asked Saanj.
'Six' she corrected.
She corrected him with the same answer fourth time that year.
'Are ek chai milegi?' They heard from a distance. It was Karim chacha.
'Karim chacha! Aao baitho. Laati hu chai, in two minutes!' Raani ran towards the kettle.
'Saanj beta, welcome back home.' Chacha said.
Saanj starting feeling uncomfortable again. He jerked his head again, this time vigorously.
He screamed, 'AAJU KO NAHI MARA MAINE! AAJU ZINDA HAI. AAJU KO BULAO!'
He was shivering and shouting. Chacha held his hand tightly and gave him an injection. Saanj slowly went in a trance, unconscious state. Rani and his mother watched from a distance.

The time Saanj was up, Karim chacha was sitting beside him, writing something in his diary. There was nobody else around.
'Aman taught you English?' Asked chacha.
'Yes. Aman thinks i am good.'
'Aaju. She is dead. Do you accept?' Chacha asked.
Saanj was quite.
'Do you accept?' he asked again, trying to push his feelings.
'Your question hurt me.' Saanj said, closing his eyes.
'It is good that you are feeling it, you have to feel Saanj. Let it out. You will feel good.'
'Chacha, I know I need medicine.'
'I will help you with it. Hindi me baat karen?'
'Haan.' Saanj said.

A few days later, Anup and Saanj went to their junior school to meet their teachers. Saanj was an obidient and curious child back then. He always wanted to learn speaking english. But due to their low financial status and problems with father, he could not complete his schooling. He wished to see his mother and sister happy... always.
'Did they keep you in very bad condition?' asked Mishra sir.
'No sir. I learned to live there.' Saanj replied.
'We are sorry to say that you, being accounted as a murderer, we cannot file your name on our Alumni list.'
'It is fine sir.' his eyes were looking downwards.
'Are you comfortable now? Do you feel OK?'
'Yes. I need little time.'
'Ofcourse, you will have it. I am sorry about Aaju. She was one of my favorite students, just like you.'
'She was my favorite too sir.'
'Do you feel, ummm... Aaju changed you?' asked sir in a horse tone.
'No. Something else did.'
'What is it? ' sir asked with raised eyebrows.

'Alzheimer did, Sir.' 

Tuesday, 5 September 2017

A Vote of Thanks by Juhi Meshram

21:30
Like every year, I posted sweets and a card to Nanu, with a handwritten note, "Thank you for being the best teacher, happy teachers' day". I giggle as he proudly mention how one of his students wish him every year without a break. And he is right.  
After all, he was my second teacher... during all those summer vacations, he had taught me life. I still feel grateful to my parents... don't remember who made me walk for the first time, Maa or Papa, but I am sure both made me escape the fall. From how to walk, how to utter, how to speak, how to dress, how to behave.... there were numerous times that I had learnt numerous things from them, and am still learning.
I don't remember my first day in school, but I have those school friends. I learnt to share, to play...from A B C D to friendship, I had it all. We never liked exams but they come to upgrade us to another standard. Like the one did to me.
It was the first time I lived without my parents. But then, hostel had it's own lessons for me. Doing things by your own and friends be family... were the things changed a whole lot of me. 
Travelling alone, dealing with college assignments, career objectivity and learning to survive... it all became easy with time.
And, how can I forget my first boyfriend and first breakup. I laugh on the matter now and realise it was needed to overcome traumas. It had it's own set of learnings... to deal with failures.
My qualification offered me job and my passion turned me towards opening this restaurant... I have reached thinking about my life lessons.
I take this opportunity of teachers' day to thank all my teachers... off course, I can't thank all of them, but the ones who stayed. 
And lastly, when I glance back at my life today, I don't forget to thank myself, for never giving up instead of all odds.

Sunday, 30 April 2017

Loose Souls by Juhi Meshram

12:00

I was walking the lane when he appeared,
Grabbed my privates, I sighed in tears.
Before I could act he disappeared.
And! I was told to stay home.

I went for a concert that night
It was crowd or someone pinched me there
I couldn't explain my plight!
And! I was told to stay home at night.

It was a brunch meet
There came my friend's colleague
They glanced me head to feet
And! I was told not to be with strangers.

At office, Boss applauded my duty
Everyone clapped but some teased
That I get attention due to my beauty
And! I was told to ignore.

The pictures of weekend outing
One commented "maze le rha h bhai"
Because he had covered my shoulder while standing.
And! I was told to stop uploading pictures.

I stayed home that weekend
Only to find one staring me in the opposite building
Frustrated! I told my mom in the end.
And! I was told to closed the window.

Saturday, 21 January 2017

Sairat- Mad In Love by Juhi Meshram

18:00



Dear Son, 

I stood gazing the bullet when entered the campus. Every time that I heard the bullet roar, a smile had conquered my face and that day even the bullet looked me back. My incentive heart popped out as the rider walked by my side & took her seat in the class. My eyes couldn’t stop staring her and that day even she didn’t take her eyes off me.

Love is to live, hate is to war
Love is to live, hate is to war
She pierced his eyes
And left him wounded like a cigar

Even the most pakau shayaris by my friend couldn’t lower our romance. I now knew she wasn’t an ordinary girl. How other stories in our village took place: Boy looked at girl and she blushed, boy stared girl and she complaint her friend, Boy followed girl to her home and she shied. But here! In our story: I looked at her and she asked me why, I sent letters to her and she started playing with me, her brother beat me and she warned him to not touch me. And that day, she stared me all the time in the class, not thinking about what others think, not caring about the professor and breaking all stereotypes that how a girl should be.
As it was not enough to stare me that she came all the way to my home driving her tractor. My stomach giggled as she asked me to meet near the fields, yeah! Indirectly but she did it. And my life changed, yes my 18 year old life changed as she proudly walked into it. 

Love is to live, hate is to war
Love is to live, hate is to war
She has now entered your den
She will set us far   
           
His worst shayaris continued as we came along. And I never realized what was the time that I had actually fall for her.


Your Father
Parshya
                                                      ___

Dear Son, 

He was such a shy boy, and dumb too. It had been months that I knew he liked me. Thousands of time I hinted him that I too liked him. But! Blame his decency or innocence that I was ready for the leap and he was just walking behind me. Actually it wasn’t his fault, no one else could be as gutsy as me, and even my cousin brother couldn’t stand before me.

The time he gaped at me while I played kho-kho in the ground, the way he looked at me when we crossed ways in the campus. He feared me like others did but then there was a sense of owning when his eyes fell on me. May be I fall for that look. 

Initially it was all a fun game for me; I liked to tease him when he sent letters to me, I liked to bully him in my way. I wanted to meet him more, talk to him and spend my time like that.  

And that happened soon. I was not that person who could hold things for long or wait for the right time to appear. I chose my time and drove to his home.
That was the first day we directly met, talked and looked into each other. Those were the moments when I actually felt myself to be ordinary as I was not able to freeze time. 

If he was the field I wanted to wrap it on me, if he was the pond, I so wanted to jump into it and if he himself was the time I wished to travel the time.
Our days became a routine as we me every day. The fields in our village witnessed our love and our friends became our armor as they cleared the way for us to meet.       

Love is to live, hate is to war
Love is to live, hate is to war
You two are now together
Let us go to the bar

His friend started his weird rhyming. I wished I could teach him English.


Your Mother
Archi

                                                       ___          
 

Never in life did I imagine something like that could happen to us. I blinked my eyes and everything that I had was gone. There was a grand party going on Archi’s home. We were all dancing and having fun when I saw a people fighting and soon we too were dragged in. 

They beat us really bad. parshya, I and Pradeep were badly beaten by Archi's family. They had discovered Parshya nad Archi together. Our little heaven changed into hell.

Archi and Parshya ran away from village and got settled in city. Parshya’s mother and sister had to leave village in the fear of death. And our life too changed.

I wondered how they would be doing in that big city without us; they must be scratching their lives to survive. And one day I heard that they were killed by Archi’s brother. They had a son. I never got to see him.

Honour killing became their fate and I was left with my shayaris, they remined me of Parshya and our times.

Love is to live, hate is to war
Love is to live, hate is to war
Life stood broken
When war left scars

I know they must be missing me, the way I do. We had lived the best time together. And they were the best friends I had.

                                                     ___

Parshya- What happened to your nose?
Archi- I got this mark when we were killed. Why do you ask the same thing time and again? And you know it doesn’t hurt.
Parshya- And you know I love to irritate you. Are you happy? We are together at least.
Archi- Humans seem so small form here, and so is there plastic life. No one could ever set us apart.
Parshya- Yeah, I just feel we could nourish our son; we have got good neighbours though.
Archi- Yes! That is the only wish that never happened. All we can do is to pray for his well being.

Parshya- Yes! And we should soon find a way to send these letters to him telling him our love story. Still don’t know how to post letter from heaven. 

Friday, 23 December 2016

Abandoned Valley by Juhi Meshram

12:00
4 a.m. Dawn. The time I wake up every day. It was a usual morning, until I heard arms fire and bombs. I waited for a while to understand the state of the valley; it dint take me any longer to sense war with the sound of heavy guns, four consecutive bomb blasts which trapped one of our posts at mountaintop.
Standing in my lobby that morning, I saw a changed picture of my valley. A layer of smoke had added a new flavour. The best I could do was to wait, but my mind was flickering as our village could have been captured too. Just then, I remembered the previous morning, and realised how different was it.
A day before, after fajr ki namaz I took a walk around the valley; from the bank of the river that comes from east, to the beautiful mountains covered with crops and herbs, to the dense wood forests, to the valley covered with green lands, to my home. Mornings are my favourite, as they take me to the beauty of the nature and into the lap of my family. Breakfast is the only meal when all of us are together, on one table.
The table occupying 10, was full of dishes; kulche with cholay which is favourite to all of us, tea, fresh fruits and firni. My wife cooks the best red rice firni. It’s her own recipe that we all cherish. Red rice has high market value but as we crop it ourselves, it’s as common as daily meal for us.
The best warm breakfast and a light conversation with my family was my source of energy for the whole day. Being a 65 year old, I never felt really old when I see my two sons their wives & 3 grandchildren and of course, my lovely life. After the meal, I headed for our rice fields in the mountain with my elder son. Near the evening, we were back in the valley.
Before going home we visited the weekly market near sarhad. I sat there chatting with some mates till late. The market is the most colourful treat of the valley. With shops selling fresh vegetable and herbs completely organic, with mates sitting over hookah near tea stall, with soldiers visiting us on duty, with young girls husking rice in one corner, with stalls offering hot kulche and much more; it appeared to be the most happening, yet organised fair.  After dinner, I slept early that night as usual.
When I recall my days, my life and my family; I see a satisfying picture before my eyes. But when I see my work, my valley and my people; I feel I could have done much better with my life. At a young age, I was interested in my state’s tourism and had even worked as a tourist volunteer. I had great love for the beauty of my valley and wished the other countries to experience and praise this beauty too.
So many times that I tried to actualise my idea of welcoming foreign tourists, at least from east in the valley with my fellows; I got failed every time. With time, I accepted the situation for our region, being a state of war, was never ready to take people from the other side. And this is the only thing that I knew I would regret when I die.
I stood there in my lobby for long, hearing those undesirable sounds of guns and blast and thinking about my whole life as the fear of death followed. I heard my wife calling me from behind. She asked me to get inside as we could be targeted. Although they dint come near our headquarters but armed people could never be trusted during a war.
I walked inside fast as the heavy arms gun were heard. I followed my wife as she walked back to our living room from the lobby crossing the drawing room, to reach the basement.
 This house was built by my abbu when I was fifteen. A perfect three-storied home, crafted with the finest wood of our forest. There lived the six of us- abbu, ammi, chaccha, chacchi, me and Riaz, chaccha’s son. I built the third storey later when my grandchildren were born. The basement was built when the wars became frequent near our valley. It was built my abbu when I was in my late twenties; it helped us survive during war. Nearly all the pakka houses constructed these thick walled basements during that time.
We were all sitting in the basement for hours as the firing and blast continued near the sarhad. The sounds became louder. We tried to assume what made them come this near to us, crossing several kilometres of sarhad. Thirty years had passed since they came this far last time. It had been thirty years that our family had loosened a bond. 
My wife was continuously praying for goodwill, bahus were pampering my grandsons as they were frightened by the sounds, my sons were talking about the possibilities that could occur next when I went to flashbacks of what had happened thirty years past.
Before these thirty years, we had a different relation with the east. Yes! Sarhad stood there even then, but people from the other side were allowed to visit this side, with security. They crossed to our side mainly to visit peer dargah, to visit markets and to meet there closed ones who were once their neighbours; not the neighbouring country but neighbouring house. Even with the line that was dividing us, we shared reunion often this way. These visits from east had inspired my idea of foreign tourism coming to our side.
This was the time chaccha had taken a leap to the east when he got a job in a pharmaceutical industry. Abbu never opposed his decision to move to the other side as chaccha was passionate about his career and this often visits from east gave us chances to reunite. But one war changed our fate for once and for all. One war and we were forbidden to see our family. One war took away Abbu’s peace as he died in regrets of not meeting his brother and the same war killed my hope to be brothers, with the other side.
10 a.m. Morning. Our life resumed as the sounds stopped and they returned to their side. Later, on the news, we heard that they were soldiers from east who were taking the call on militants of our side. The next few days went in fear of wars, hatred, blames on both ends.
But for me, it was a hope. I was hoping for a positive change after this war. From that day till date, my prayers recited the same:

Bless us with love. May this war end the hatred between the two pieces of land, may this war break the silence between both sides, and may they rejoice the bond they shared once when they were following your path. I apologise for being selfish my Lord, as I am hoping this war would erase the line of control and let me meet my childhood friend, my brother on the other side: Riaz.

Friday, 16 December 2016

Absolute Allies by Shristi Nangalia

09:00

It was 11 p.m. and Chikki and Dadi had just finished dinner.
“Dadi, please tell a story tonight!” the little girl said with eyes full of anticipation.
“Acha? You are in mood of a story today, Chikki?” Dadi had no other choice.
“Yeeesss! It has been years that Papa let me stay with you overnight! Who will the story be about?”
“Umm... You will know that later.” Dadi wanted it to be memorable.
“Noooo Dadi, tell now!”
“Listen to the story, and you will have to guess yourself!”
“Oh....Okay!!” Chikki settled between two pillows.
“Long long ago... There was once a country with two lands, a superior one and an inferior one. The superior part of the country had the power of military and ruling. In the inferior land, there lived a young boy who was very depressed with his life.”
“What is this young boy’s name?” Chikki interrupted.
“Oh! Let’s say, he is Ram. And he was a handsome young guy.”
“Heheh, okay!” Chikki giggled.
Dadi continued, “Ram was not very good at studies and passed his college with a low score. It became tough for him to land into a good job. He tried his luck and applied to many big and small companies, but failed every time. Some said he was not worth it, some politely refused. After losing hopes with the corporate world, he tried and managed to get himself a low paying job at the market at his town. But it seemed that Ram’s career was not blessed with good fortune. Because soon, he had to leave that job too.”
“Haw! Why?” she was curious.
 “Because the boss believed in the superiority of the other part of the country and Ram was powerless.”
“But they were the part of the same country.” said Chikki and smiled.
“Yes, but the differences in power remained which made Ram and his fellow insecure. The people who supported the superiority were not helpful towards the inferiors. Tension grew with growing fights between the two groups of people.”
“But Dadi, why were they fighting?
“The inferiors were exploited by the superiors before and the fear persisted in their minds. Who likes to live under dominance within their homeland?”
Chikki nodded her head in refusal.
“So gradually, they formed a state of unrest within their own country. Every other day, people witnessed fights, mockery and scorn. Ram’s father, his only family, was a teacher. He used to advice Ram not to get himself into these brawls. One day, the inferiors were encouraged by activists to fight for their individuality against the superior power.”
 “Oh, wow! Then?”
“Hmm... Here, the inferiors began their fight for Independence. They started resisting the laws enforced by the superiors. But in reaction, something terrible happened. Getting protested by the inferiors, the superiors attacked them. They started a massive series of killing and harassing the inferiors. Ram was affected too. Ram’s father got himself killed while trying to save a few neighbours. Ram saw horrible things in front of his eyes. He had no other option but to leave his abode, his town, his country. Around 10 million people came flooding into an allied country, our India, for shelter and to wait for the issue to resolve.” Dadi kept it simple for Chikki.
“Oohhh. India! Wow. See? India is so useful!”
“Yes, indeed.  India supported the inferiors and his countrymen. The incoming refugees were scared, sad and tired. Some had lost their family, some had lost their homes and some lost hope and killed themselves. A situation of this kind was not easy to handle. Food and shelters were arranged for them without second thoughts. A huge team of freedom fighters were being appointed to fight against the superior army. Ram tried and got selected. It was for the first time that he got appointed to a job in one go. He was very moved with the changes that were happening around. In the meantime, Ram made many friends in this patron country. One of them was a little more closer to him than others.”
“What was this friend’s name?” asked Chikki.
“Umm... Shyam!” said Dadi.
“Okay. I could have guessed.”
“So, Ram and Shyam spent most of the time together. Shyam was a military person of this country. Sometimes, Shyam used to show Ram the places around and tell stories of Indian soldiers. Sometimes, they both watched news on the TV only to get disappointed upon how the superiors were still threatening the inferiors in Ram’s homeland. It made them even more determined to fight, to win.”
“Ohhh.” Chikki was getting engaged.
Dadi looked at the clock. It was 11.35 p.m.
“Then, then, then? Tell!” yelled Chikki.
“Oh, yes! So, a few months went by. They all were in the process of war training. And one day, the superiors attacked various sites in India which were close to the border.”
“What! Why India?”
“Because, we were helping the refugees.” cleared Dadi.
“Oooh. But Dadi, isn’t this just a story?”
“It is, for now. Listen.... The alarms were rung. Wasting no more time, the team of freedom fighters were set to fight the superiors for once and for all. And guess what?”
“What? We won!? Yes, we did! Didn’t we?” Chikki was wide awake.
“Yes, we did! Because we were stronger, resolute and we were on the good side. We had no internal gluttony for land or money in return of supporting the inferiors. Sometimes a decisive action must be taken on moral grounds for what is legit and what is not. And sometimes, it’s all about friendship, a good bond...... Here, is the end of the story.”
“Wow. This is not a moral that I expected. I liked the story.”
“I know.” said Dadi, smiling.
“But what happened to Ram and Shyam!?” Chikki remembered.
DIIINNGG! The door bell interrupted Dadi’s reply.
“Dadu is here!” yelled Chikki.
She ran to open the door. Dadu with another old man came inside. The other man was holding a big box which looked like a cake.
“Sunil Uncle, is this a cake? Is it your birthday?”
Dadi looked at the clock again. It was 11.50 p.m. She got up and went up to Dadu.
“How was the dinner?” she asked.
“Lovely, as always!” replied Dadu with a wide smile.
“Come, I will set the table.” Dadi took the cake from Sunil and opened it up on the table.
“Whose birthday is it?” Chikki was still confused.
Dadi fixed two candles on the cake and lighted them.
‘CHEERS- TO FRIENDSHIP, TO VICTORY, TO MUKTI BAHINI’ was written on the cake, like every year.
“Mukti Bahini?” Chikki had read this somewhere before. “Isn’t Mukti Bahini written on Dadu’s badge that he is wearing?” she looked closer. She was right.
“Yes, Chikki. Now let’s cut the cake or the candles will melt!”
“Yayyy!”
Together, they enjoyed the cake and made vows of staying together on this day till their deaths- something that the three did each year.
Chikki suddenly remembered, “Dadi!!! You did not tell me about Ram and Shyam.”
“Ram and Shyam? Who?” asked Dadu.
“Dadi told me a story about Ram and Shyam. Tell, Dadi! What happened to them?” Chikki asked.
“They are sitting right next to you, the extracts of Mukti Bahini and the Military Army!”

संसर्ग | Sansarg

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