Showing posts with label IN THEIR SHOES. Show all posts
Showing posts with label IN THEIR SHOES. Show all posts

Friday, December 30, 2016

Preface - In Their Shoes

Preface
________________

Just before this book went into print, I googled for the world population and I was not surprised to see the number “7 billion 22 crore.”
Imagine - 7 billion 22 crore people.
7 billion 22 crore different personalities.
7 billion 22 crore different lives.
7 billion 22 crore different perceptions.
7 billion 22 crore different stories.
This book is an attempt to see the world around us through the eyes of 13 people out of those 7 billion 22 crore people on earth. Who knows, maybe you are about to read your own account!
A few years ago, while I was at my cousin’s wedding, I observed the daughter of a drummer as to how she must perceive the whole marriage ceremony. Then I thought – let me endeavor to visualize what she thinks, how she perceives the whole ceremony going on, how she reacts to the beautiful dresses worn by the bride and her friends, and so on and so forth.
The world looks totally different when we see it through the eyes of different people. This book is about seeing the world by being in the shoes of 13 different people.

Disclaimer: all the characters, names, and situations in this book are imaginary. Any reference to original names or people is just a pure coincidence.




Contents

Bindiya: A Drummer’s Daughter 10
A 24-year-old Specially Abled Girl 15
A Heart-Broken Lover Boy. 20
An 8th Std Kid: Vineet 26
A Saadhu Baba. 31
A Struggling Writer 38
Gatekeeper of Ashabai Old Age Home. 45
A Regular Commuter In A Local Train In Mumbai 50
A Broke 77-year-old Man Living In A 140 Sq.Ft. Hut 55
A Tantrik. 59
An Uneducated Corrupt Politician. 63
A Visually Challenged Person. 69
A Bar Girl 73



Thursday, December 29, 2016

Intro



IN
THEIR
SHOES


Dipen Ambalia



About the author:

An electrical engineer from VJTI (2004), Dipen Ambalia gets electrified by his penchant for words. Not only has he experienced the IT industry for eight tumultuous and enjoyable years, but has also successfully passed his high-voltage thoughts through his two other bestselling books –LOSER (Life Of a Software EngineeR) (2012) and To B.E. or not To B.E? (2013).
‘In Their Shoes’ was first published in 2010.
He has worked in such companies as Polaris Software Labs Ltd., Mphasis- an HP Company, Citiustech and Hexaware and is currently working in an IT company in Airoli.
 He can be reached at:
dipenambalia@gmail.com




By the same author:

  • LOSER (Life Of a Software EngineeR)   (2012)
A satire on the Software industry




  • To B.E. or Not To B.E.?  (2013)

A Satire on the life of engineering students in India.

  • And That’s True Love   (Nov 2014)
Love triangle between a girl, a straight guy and a gay guy…



  



Copyright © Dipen Ambalia


Published by Inkpen Publications in 2014


INKPEN PUBLICATIONS

Flat 605, Lotus Building, Flower Valley Complex, Khadakpada,
Kalyan (W), Mumbai-421301,
Maharashtra, India

ISBN 9788192691619



All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written consent of the copyright owners.


Typeset in Adobe Garamond Pro 11 by Ajay Verma, Delhi


Printed and bound in India.








Dedication
________________
                               
I would like to dedicate this book to my parents – mother- Mrs. Manisha Ambalia and father – Late Mr. Devashi P. Ambalia.
Today whatever I am, I am because of all the love and affection that my parents have showered on me.






Acknowledgements
________________

I would like to thank Herekar Uncle and Aunty, Moitrayee Bhaduri, Manali Killedar, Maxim Albuquerque, Ami Shah, Harsha Kumbhar for their continuous support.
Special thanks to Rajiv Parshionikar for designing the cover page and to Prasad Palsokar for his insights into whats and hows about the book proposal.
A million thanks to Sudhindra Mokhasi for guiding me during and after the book proposal process.

Wednesday, December 28, 2016

Character 1 : Bindiya: A Drummer’s Daughter

Character 1

Bindiya: A Drummer’s Daughter

________________

Namaste! My name is Bindiya. I am seven years old. I don’t go to any school. I live in a house under the Sion flyover in Mumbai. Our house has three walls made of rusted tin. The roof is made of some white sheet which my pappa says is costlier than the wall. I don’t know what it is called. My family has six members – my mumma, pappa, two sisters, a cousin and myself. I am the youngest, and the most pampered too. Maybe that’s why I got a toy car yesterday. Actually, yesterday my mumma was searching for a few mineral water bottles near the tracks of Sion station. While she was at it, a toy-car suddenly dropped from a train passing by. Mumma says it’s because God loves me so much that some kid playing with a toy-car in the train dropped it and my mumma picked it up. I can manage with the fourth tyre missing; it’s okay. Mumma says that tomorrow will be a nicer day and she never lies. The second reason why I feel pampered is that my pappa - a drummer who plays drums in marriages - takes me with him every time there is a function in the nearby hall.
Mumma wakes me up every day at 6.30 in the morning, brushes my teeth, bathes me and makes me drink three glasses of water so that my stomach feels full. I usually eat bread and water for breakfast half the week, and rest of the days I eat Parle-G biscuits and water. On days when my pappa gets a chance to play drums at a marriage ceremony, we get a delicious breakfast - masala dosa or idli from an Anna whose stall is near our home. While mumma is out searching for plastic bottles and other plastic things, I stay back and take care of the house. Even though I am the youngest, I like taking care of Chinti and Moni, my elder sisters, and my cousin Rahul. I also like to keep our little house neat and tidy, because it also makes mumma happy. After mumma leaves, I play ‘tyre-tyre’ with my friends. The uncle at a nearby cycle shop is a very kind person, for he gives us free tyres to play. Since I am the smallest of the lot, I get the smallest tyre – the tyre of a scooter. My cousin Rahul gets the tyre of a big fancy cycle. I lose most of the times in the game and then I cry. To make me feel good, my friends purposely drop their tyres on some pretext or the other while rolling them to the finish line to make me feel good. So when I win, I feel like I am on top of the world. I know for sure that my smile makes my friends happy too.
In the afternoon, I eat rice, salt and papad. It is rarely in a week that we get chapati, bhaaji, achaar and other such things to eat. I never grumble about food because I know that my parents strive very hard to buy whatever we eat or wear or have. Then I sleep for around two hours and wake up when Moti- my cute cute dog- comes and licks my face. Moti has become fat with all the food that everyone in the nearby big colony keeps throwing out and he is one of my best friends. Though he cannot speak, I like to talk to him. I also make Moti run by throwing small pebbles at a distance and then shouting “shoo Moti shoo…” Moti runs like the wind and gets those pebbles back. Sometimes, I fool Moti by not throwing any pebble at all and just shouting “shoo Moti shoo!” You should see his face; he gets so confused. Hahaha. I love to do that. I feel bad later but I am sure he also enjoys it.
When we have bread in breakfast, sometimes I hide a slice or two for Moti. Mumma knows that, but never scolds me. She had once told me, “Always treat all living beings with respect and love” and I obey what she says.
In the evening, we friends play lagori (wherein small, flat stones are placed one over the other and then hit with a ball) or hide-and-seek in the buses parked under the flyover. I like playing the latter more because that is when I get the excuse of entering the parked buses and getting a chance to sit in those comfortable seats. When do you think I would get a chance to relax in those soft-soft seats otherwise? My mumma comes back home after sunset and gets us vada-pav from a nearby stall. That is our usual dinner and I enjoy eating it very much. The spicy green chutney that comes with the vada-pav is just amazing. And also that dry red coloured shengdana ka chutney; its tangy taste tickles the tongue. Sometimes, when I feel that my sisters or brother is hungry, I give my vada to them and eat just the pav and chutney. Pappa usually comes home late and sometimes, a foul smell comes out of his mouth. I hate that. I don’t go near to my pappa then. I go to sleep after he comes back, only to follow the same routine every day.
Sometimes I wonder when I will go to school. Whenever a school bus stops near the signal, I see happy faces inside the bus. They wear good clothes, have fancy school bags and water bottles. My mother has caught me observing the school bus and kids inside at times. She then pats my back, gives me a smile and then closes her eyes. When she closes her eyes, I think she tells God to listen to my prayers.
At the signal, I even see dogs or cats peeping out of some big cars. Those animals must be so lucky, to be living better lives than me. Before I go to sleep, I pray to god to give my pappa more chances to play at weddings and my mumma more plastic bottles and other plastic things so that even I would get a chance to sit in those fancy cars someday.
Oh, last week, I turned seven and pappa took me for a movie. The movie didn’t have Shahrukh Khan or Salman Khan. But I was happy to see something that had songs, fight and Govinda. I saw the movie in a small video booth and there were only the fourteen of us. As usual, we sat down on a mattress and enjoyed the movie. This was the fifth movie that I watched and that day ended with a kulfi. I am sure that the kulfi must have been very costly because I could see the discomfort on my pappa’s face when he paid for it.
And guess what, my happiness didn’t end there. There was a marriage at the Savani hall near Chembur the very next day, which is like eight kilometres from our home. An uncle of mine, who plays the piano, referred my father as the drummer for the occasion. Savani hall is huge; so are the functions held there, especially marriages. From what I have heard till now, Aishwarya Rai and Karishma Kapoor got married there. I am not very sure, though.
The marriage was to start at 9.30 in the morning. I distinctly remember that day because it is the best day of my life till now. My pappa woke up at 5 o’clock. I woke up half an hour after that. I had a quick bath, got dressed in my yellow frock that was gifted to my mumma by some good-hearted aunty. I don’t know why she gifted that yellow dress. But anyway, I got dressed and was very happy. And yes, I also wore a yellow-coloured plastic wrist watch. I don’t know whether it was working or not, but I wore it nonetheless. Moreover, I didn’t know how to read a watch.
By 6.00 o’clock, I was ready and pretty excited to see all beautiful uncles, aunties, didis and bhaiyas at the marriage ceremony. My father and I started walking towards Savani hall. After walking for some fifteen minutes that early in the morning, I started complaining. My father said, “Beti, it’s just another fifteen minutes away”. A happy curve appeared on my face. I was not just walking, I was jumping with joy. I could see some fat aunty look at me and wonder why I was so excited. She didn’t know that I was going to Savani hall! After walking for an hour-and-a-half, we reached the Savani hall. The hall was like a palace: the entrance had long beads of flowers, there were two watchmen at the entrance. I somehow didn’t like those two watchmen because they twitched their faces and started talking to each other when they saw me and my pappa. My pappa gave them reference of my uncle and then they told us to wait for an hour. Luckily, there was a banyan tree nearby. My pappa carried me on his shoulders and we sat under the banyan tree.
I could see the people slowly pouring in. There were a few cars that I had never seen before. I had once asked my pappa about the best car in Mumbai and he had told me about Maruti. There was one car which had a small horse-like toy on its front. The other had a circle with three arrows in it. I don’t know which cars they were. But I am sure those cars must have been costly because the people who came out of those cars seemed to be dressed like kings and queens. I really liked one aunty who had a necklace with shining stones and pearls in it. She was looking so beautiful! I looked at the sky. I was trying to figure out whether God was seeing all this and whether he could feel my wish to be like one of those aunties who looked like queens.
By 9, the Savani hall was almost crowded. Then suddenly, a handsome bhaiya came up to my pappa and said, “Bhaisaab, the barat will be here in another five minutes; you can begin now…ho jao shuru”. The moment that bhaiya completed his sentence, my pappa stood up and started playing the drums. It was as if a sudden jolt of current had passed through his body. I was stunned at the energy that filled my pappa. I could read his eyes; I could feel those eyes saying: “This, this is the chance to make hay. This day is going to be the best day of our lives. Play hard. Play harder. Play the hardest ever you have played. Today the whole family is going to enjoy a nice dinner at night. Not even a single moment can you afford to slow down!”
I have lost count of the number of times I have been to a marriage with my papa where he has been the drummer. I have often wondered why people get so attracted to drums. I mean, I shouldn’t complain. But, seriously, drums are just noise to me. Anyway, I could easily feel that this marriage was going to be the most memorable for the family. The simple reason being money! The hall was big; the guests were rich; the bhaiya, who told my pappa to play, was rich. After five minutes, the barat indeed arrived and the dulha stepped out of a huge shiny car with a circle and three arrows shining bright in front of the car. Bhaiya started throwing fifty rupee notes all around. Pappa signalled me to start collecting those. Actually, I was so stunned by all this pompous procession that I had forgotten the reason why pappa had taken me to that marriage in the first place!
I started collecting the notes that were strewn around near the entrance. Bhaiya and one more uncle cheered my pappa to play harder. That uncle then picked me in his arms and threw me in the air. It was out of joy, I guess. I somehow didn’t like it. Maybe because I could sense that my pappa didn’t like the fact that I was being used as an object for playing. That strange foul smell was coming out from that uncle’s mouth, that I so disliked in pappa. But pappa had that smell after he fought with mumma; I wondered who the uncle had fought with.
I shirked and that uncle let me start collecting the notes again. His eyes started rolling and then he took out a bundle hundred rupee notes. I had never ever seen such a bundle. I looked at my father. I guess we both thanked God. A rich person might not agree with me, but my pappa and I knew that for the next few days, we wouldn’t have to walk miles to play drums to ensure food for everyone at home. In a short time, the floor was filled with hundred and fifty rupee notes and I tried my best to gather all of them. Amidst all my attempts to collect the money, I saw a watchman sneak out one hundred rupee note and three of fifty. “Never mind,” I thought. Even he must have prayed to his favourite God. That made me feel that God does listen to our sincere prayers.
After playing continuously for some forty minutes, pappa was asked to stop. I just kept looking at his face. Not beads, but streams of sweat covered his face. He looked at me and smiled. I gave him all the money I had collected, with a warm smile. He then picked me up and kissed me. The sweat that was on his face was now on my face too! I normally hated that. But that day, that sweat wasn’t sweat. That sweat was a symbol of hard work, affection and the satisfaction that God did exist! I kissed my pappa back. We were told to wait near the place where food was to be served.
While pappa was busy counting the earnings for the day, I was busy observing the beautiful dresses, necklaces, saris, chudidars, chaniya-cholis and many things that I didn’t even know existed. The stage was beautifully decorated. The flowers smelt really good. The whole aura was filled with the fragrance of those beautiful flowers. But somehow I felt that the flowers that I smelt were not as good as what pappa sometimes brought for mumma.
On the stage were the handsome groom and pretty bride. The girl was as beautiful as Aishwarya Rai and the groom was as handsome as Abhishekh Bachchan. I couldn’t stop staring at their clothes. In real life, I had never seen anyone as wonderfully dressed as that couple was. The whole hall seemed like a movie set. Pappa and I were then called to an area near the entrance and were given jalebi, paneer-pakoda, biryani, kulfi, aloo paratha and a few more dishes whose name I don’t know. I ate till I burped eight times. The last time I had burped was around five months ago; that too at a wedding. As a final note of goodbye, we met the bhaiya who had summoned pappa to start playing; he gave me a nice doll. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I wondered where he must have gotten the doll from. And I guess my eyes couldn’t hold the question too because he smiled at me and told me, “When I saw you this morning, I asked my driver to get you a Barbie. So here you go!” That bhaiyaa was an angel to me.
We boarded the new Kinglong A/C bus to go from Chembur to our house. The fellow passengers were staring at us. My pappa gave the conductor a fifty rupee and exchanged it for two tickets. You should have seen the smile on my face, and more importantly, the smile and the pride on my pappa’s face. I felt proud in being Bindiya, the drummer’s daughter!


Monday, December 26, 2016

Character 2 A 24-year-old Specially Abled Girl

Character 2

A 24-year-old Specially Abled Girl


________________




I like Sandhya ma’am; she is my favourite. She loves me a lot. I love her a lot too. Last week, Sandhya ma’am took a test on algebra. She asked if anyone would come forward and solve the following question:
A tree has 30 birds perched on it. A hunter comes and shoots 10 birds. How many birds are left on the tree?
Out of twenty students, I was the only one with the courage to go forward and solve the question on the board. I took the chalk in my hand and within just two minutes, solved the question. You shouldn’t be surprised that I topped the class with 60% marks. Sandhya ma’am even gave me a Dairy Milk chocolate on the day of the result. I was so happy. In fact, when ma’am was giving me the chocolate, my maa was standing outside the class and was very happy. I am sure she was happy, but not too sure why she was crying. My coming first in the class should make my maa happy, na?
Oh, I forgot to tell you, my name is Vidya. Just fifteen days ago I celebrated my birthday at home and at school. The cake had so many candles on it, 24 I guess. My best friend Shraddha had once told me that the number of candles on the cake equals the age of the person whose birthday is being celebrated. But, Shraddha has to be wrong, I am sure. I still feel I am just 12 years old. My paa and maa pamper me a lot, my bedroom is filled with soft toys, and the CD basket is full of cartoon movies. Maybe that is the reason why I feel that I am 12 years old. I have told my maa so many times that she should not pamper me so much. But she never listens to me.
Maa and paa watch a lot of Hindi serials on television, and whenever I am with them, I feel my parents can easily get a role in those. My maa and paa can cry at the drop of a hat! See, if I get sick or get hurt and then if they cry, then it is still okay. But, I have seen them cry so many times for no reason at all now, that when they don’t cry, I start wondering if all is well. I had even asked paa once, “Sab theek to hai na!” See, whenever I win a prize – be it in academics, running, dancing, chess, or football – they start crying. Whenever any one of my friends gets married, they start crying. Whenever anyone from our family gets married, they start crying. Whenever I give my full introduction to my relatives, they start crying. I mean what is so sad about a full introduction? You want to hear what I say in my full introduction? Hmm…okay. Here it is!
 “My name is Vidya. I am twelve years old. I am a good girl. I keep things in proper place. I go to SRC School. People say that this school is a special school. But I still don’t know what is so special about this school. Maybe because the principal has no hair on his head. Hahaha. A good girl that I am, I wake up every day at 6. My maa helps me take bath. She then makes tiffin for me, which usually consists of jam and bread. And yes, there is also a layer of Amul butter on the bread. Then, I take a private rickshaw to go to school. Maa comes with me too. She drops me near Sandhya ma’am’s cabin and leaves. Then, I study algebra, arithmetic, English and history. I love history the most. Not all my classmates like me. Maybe because I don’t share my tiffin box with them. I don’t have a problem with them not liking me as long as maa, paa, Shraddha and Sandhya ma’am love me. And yes, I love you all too!”
Can you imagine that the above introduction makes my maa and paa teary-eyed! I wonder why.
My favourite pastime is listening to music, watching cartoons and sitting near the window and seeing the sun set every evening. I have rarely missed the sunset. There is something that I like very much about the sunset. The glow, the rays, the colour of the sky, the excitement amongst the birds to reach their nests quickly, the joy amongst the children of birds that their parents will come home, the happiness in my heart that the next day I will meet my teacher again, the feeling that a day full of sadness and pain has ended, the assurance that the sun will rise again and cheer everyone up.
I have written a poem too. And even if you don’t want to listen to it, I will read out that poem.
The sun sets in the evening to sleep in his mother’s lap,
Twilight spreads all over to cover the horizon’s map.
Hope is what drives us through the night,
I pray to God to lessen everyone’s plight.
I like to sit at the window, stare at the world, play with my doll and love,
My maa says that I am a sweet messenger of love – a sweet-n-cute dove.

You know, I love dogs. Few months ago, while I was playing with Shraddha, I saw this very cute puppy that was being ignored by its mother. First of all, I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw that the puppy was being ignored by its mother! I mean, my maa is so sweet and this puppy’s mother was being so cruel to such a cute baby. I was overcome by mixed emotions. I was angry at that puppy’s mother and I also felt like crying. I told Shraddha that I would return in some time. I took a big stone and threw at that puppy’s mother. She ran away and that small chweet puppy also ran after her. I ran after the puppy and finally got hold of it. I took the puppy in my hand and started playing with it. I kissed it. I could feel its happiness when it started licking my hand. Its tail was wagging so sweetly! Hahaha...I instantly named it “Tommy”. Then I kept thinking whether I should take Tommy home. My maa is very scared of animals; she specifically dislikes dogs. She would definitely say no to bringing Tommy home. But being smart, I used my most powerful tool – crying! I reached the doorstep of our home and started crying. My maa came running to the door and stared at me. I was expecting her to shout at me. But, seeing me cry, she just asked me, “What have you named it?” and smiled at me. I said “Tommy” and ran to the bathroom and give Tommy a nice bath with my elephant-shaped soap. I spent the whole evening talking and playing with Tommy. Apart from maa, paa, Shraddha and Sandhya ma’am, Tommy was now the most important part of my life. Tommy is a well-trained dog now; my bodyguard.
I normally don’t tell my sad stories to a stranger. But, now that you know so much about me, you aren’t a stranger for me. Isn’t it?
My cousin Prajakta is the closest to me. Last year my maa, paa, and I visited Vishakapatnam to attend Prajakta’s wedding. Just when the wedding was about to start, I fainted. My parents ran helter-skelter to find a good hospital for me. Actually, maa and paa were already aware that something of that sort would happen. I was admitted to a local hospital and when I opened my eyes, guess what I saw! The same old scene – maa and paa crying. But this time their crying was valid, I felt. But what was strange was that only maa and paa were around me. I still wonder why no one else was there. Didn’t anyone else love me? Didn’t anyone else care to know what happened to sweet Vidya?
Never mind that. I couldn’t care less if the whole world was not with me. I was thankful to God to have given me such good and sweet maa and paa. The next day, I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw Sandhya ma’am there. When I asked her what she was doing in the hospital in Vishakapatnam, she told me that she had come to visit a relative of hers who had got hurt in an accident. Later on I came to know that my paa had called her up and made her take the next flight available. My parents knew that I would recover at a faster rate if Sandhya ma’am was with me. Sometimes some people are just irreplaceable.
I can never forget the day when I was very small and I, maa and paa had gone to a fair near our society. There were different types of rides in that fair. One was a merry-go-round with seats in the shape of different types of animals. The other was a train with big tea-cups as its seats. I was so excited to sit in one of the tea-cups. My maa was telling me that I was looking like a sweet honeybee that had come to drink tea and by mistake had fallen into the cup…Hahaha. Sometimes my maa gives such sweet comparisons that I can’t stop blushing. See, I still can’t stop smiling.
Anyway, after that we went on to watch the Maut-ka-Kuaa where there were two motor-cyclists riding in that underground well. There was also a magic show going on in one corner of the ground. After eating paani poori and dahi-poori we were leaving for our home. My maa was holding my hand. Just as I was casually looking around, I found one black coloured bag near an ice-cream stall. There was no one near that bag. Since there was so much noise around, I had to speak out loud and asked my paa, “Paa someone has forgotten that bag there. Why is no one around that bag?” Someone passing by overheard our conversation and I don’t know why, he made his own conclusions and started shouting, “Bomb hai idhar…bomb hai …bhaago!” People started running helter-skelter. In all that commotion, my hand slipped out of maa’s. For that fraction of a second, I felt as if I had lost contact with the whole world. I started crying out loud. I didn’t know where to run. I couldn’t find my paa either. In such a commotion, even if my paa and maa had screamed out my name aloud, I wouldn’t have been able to hear that. I was very scared and almost hopeless. Then I did the best I could think of; I stood beside a paani poori stall. The police arrived in twenty minutes or so. One policewoman found me in a shattered state. She asked me about my home and my parents. I was too shocked to talk to her. Then she gave me an ice-cream. I cooled down and gave her a chit of paper on which the address of our home was written. In fact, my maa and paa, whenever we went out, always made me keep a chit of paper with our address written on it. That policewoman then took me along with a driver uncle in a police jeep and dropped me home. But when I reached home, I found the door locked. I started crying again. I started feeling that I had surely lost my maa and paa in that fair. An hour passed by. I was feeling nauseous. Suddenly, I heard my maa’s voice, choked with sobs. And yes, it was my maa! She saw me sitting in front of our home and ran towards me. I ran towards her and jumped to hug her. We both were crying at that time. The moment I hugged her, I could feel that I was alive again. That was the tightest hug I had ever given to my maa. We both kissed each other. Some fifteen minutes later, my paa arrived home. We three hugged each other and cried again.
I distinctly remember the day when I had cried for a full day. I was being sent to a boarding school where there were many children like me. I was told that “my condition would improve at a faster rate”. I couldn’t understand what “condition” meant and what “improve at a faster rate” meant. Why would I have to improve, I wondered. If you see the world from my perspective, I feel that you all behave weirdly. Whenever I see myself in the mirror, I am proud of my hair, my eyes. Okay, I do tilt a lot towards my left and twitch my face when I speak or laugh. I can’t lift my left hand entirely. But, I don’t have a problem with that. That’s how God intended me to be. In fact, I am sure that I am a very creative person. You can never think of something that I can think of. Let me ask you. What do you think when you read this:
“A farmer had 5 goats. A person bought 3 goats. So how many goats are there with the farmer?”
You might answer ‘2’ in a flash!
But, as I said, I am a creative person. I first imagine a farmer with 5 goats. The goats are munching green grass. The goats are talking to each other about their lives and how good their owner is. Then a person, probably a non-vegetarian, comes to buy 3 goats. All the 5 goats become happy because they now know that 3 of them are going to see the world other than their shed. Finally, the farmer picks 3 goats and hands them to the person. The 3 goats are happy and bid goodbye to the remaining 2 goats. So finally the farmer is left with 2 goats.
This is my way of thinking. Now you know why I take full two minutes to solve a question like the one mentioned above.
I dread to think of the day when my maa, paa, Sandya ma’am and Shraddha will not be around me. I know I would have to face such a day. I pray to God to make maa and paa as my parents again and Sandhya ma’am and Shraddha my sisters. I love them very much. I have written a poem for my maa, paa, Shraddha, Sandhya ma’am and Tommy…

Someone please tell, why do people laugh at me?
All of them face the world, they all are set free.
Why do I still hold paa’s hand and cross the road,
When the world around has grown to a frog from a tadpole.
In the morning I get up and look at nature’s grace,
And then maa drops me to school and I see Sandhya ma’am’s face.
So many years passed, I still learn 2+2=4
But why don’t they understand that I want to learn much more.
My childhood friends now have their own kids
The toddlers call me ‘aunty’, even when I play in their midst.
Am I different from my friends in any way?
If no, then why do I still continue to play with clay.
Hey, my dear Tommy, you are my sweetest pet!
Your mum was very cruel, baby, that’s why we both met.
Now I think I should write your mum a mail
Telling her how nicely you play and cutely wag your tail.
Sandhya ma’am, you were a pillar to me
And I know you didn’t love me just for the sake of fee.
Paa and maa, you always have been my soul’s part
You are the best parents, with such a pure and loving heart.
Shraddha, you are my true and best friend
Because you didn’t follow the worldly trend.
My world is my teacher, my friend and my maa and paa
Now I don’t care even if others laugh – ‘Ha Ha Ha’
Rest of the world doesn’t love me, they only know to hate
May be this is what God wrote in my fate.
Maa and Paa you don’t have to be worried
I would be happy till the day you are buried.