I type this piece of blog on an
unhappy stomach yet a happy heart. Wait, will tell you starting from the morning, 9 am to be precise, which is when Mom shouts aloud from the kitchen, “Will you
wake up now, brush your teeth, and have lunch?” I hear that in my half-sleep
mode, and reach out to my phone, which again shows 9 am. Lunch? - Not really,
that’s how my Mom alarms way ahead of the time. I sit back to collect my senses in a meditating pose, then Mom enters with a plate of watermelon, cut into
neat and eatable-at-once pieces. She puts the plate on my bedside table, and I do
not mind starting munching on a piece of watermelon, without even having my
face and mouth cleaned up.
I: “Mom, I want to have Dahi Vada.”
Already I got to smell it.
Mom: “Did you dream about Dahi Vada?” Undoing the window screen, she points outside, “There is your Dahi Vada uncle.
You lazy mess! Only if you get your butt moving…”
Really, he is there hawking around
two blocks away from our building. Though my mouth drools more, my body will not like to walk the
distance to Dahi Vada. No hope from my stupid brother to cater to my boss-like
Dahi Vada wish. Suddenly, Papa appears into the scene, and tells Mom to get
ready as they will be going to visit a friend.
Exactly after 5 minutes they leave, I receive a quick call from them asking me to go downstairs, as they have sent the Dahi
Vada uncle, and paid him up already.
I wash my face quickly, and run down even
more quickly. After all, it’s Dahi Vada for what I meowed like a cat since I have woken up. When I reach there, uncle is ready
with two plates of Dahi Vada and does another round of garnishing. It
looks IRRESISTIBLE in bold letters.
I take the two plates in my two hands
and turn back to see Raja, the fat, cute, nursery boy who stays in the next
building, standing like a puppy bow-wowing for Dahi Vada again.
Raja: “Uncle, give me too.”
Dahi Vada uncle: “No, your Papa has
said no.”
Raja: “Shall I call my Papa?”
Dahi Vada Uncle: “Okay, you go, call
him. I am coming.”
Raja comes in, Dahi Vada uncle goes
off in his absence.
I am still there when Raja comes
back. His eyes search his Papa and Dahi Vada in turns, but nobody is there to
his avail except me. I even wonder what I kept waiting for.
I: “Raja, come to our house. Will eat
together.”
Raja: “Will take lift or stairs?”
I: “Lift is not working. Let’s walk.”
Raja: “No, I can’t.” He hangs a sulky
face.
Now I get why Dahi Vada is a
forbidden food for him. I am no family for him to care about his health or size. At that moment, I am a cat and he is a puppy who meowed and bow-wowed over a
plate of Dahi Vada. The cat passes one plate to the puppy, and pull its cheek
hard and run back happily. The happiness in his eyes and in my heart, may not be told in words.
As soon as I get home, my incorrigibly
stupid brother snatches away another plate and settles down before TV which
plays What Happened Next? Season 2.
What really happened is my unhappy
stomach does not pronounce any big philosophy, but my happy heart does realize
a modest piece of irony.
“Giving is the most rewarding thing
of all time.”
