I am really sorry for not having updated my blog for more than a week now. The reasons is a good mix of really hectic studying for a test on sunday, some laziness, and a small wait. My close friend Shriram, has come down to Mumbai for his visa interview.
He and I have always had a penchant for writing. Infact, our favourite classes in school were the english classes, where we had to write essays, reports etc.
Also this is going to be my 50thpost, so I thought a small wait for letting Shriram write the post would be worth it.
So todays blog, is a GUEST blog, written by Shriram. Hope you all will like it!
Only humans have the tendency of acquiring pleasure at the cost of some one else’s misery. Insatiable.
I used to go to play at a boy’s home in the evenings when I was in the 5th standard. This friend of mine used to be in the 4th at that time.
One such not so fine an evening his mom was chatting with both of us when I had gone down to play at his place, enquiring generally about my studies and other curricular things. Suddenly she asked me a weird question,” Tell me Shriram, do you love your mother more or your father?”
I was taken aback but replied quietly a few seconds later that I couldn’t possibly chose between the two. She said”Come on!! There must be someone you like more than the other.”
I said” I like both equally.”
She wasn’t satisfied and told me pacifying “You don’t have to worry about anything. You can tell me. Who do you like more?”
“My mom”, I said and turned as if indicating that the interview was over and she could leave now.
Incidentally my mom and dad were coming to their place for a casual visit later that evening. After the normal customary servings of coffee, and snacks associated with it, my parents and my friends’ started chatting which I being a kid did not feel compelled to attend and listen. I was playing cricket in the other room and suddenly the ball entered the hall where the adults were sitting.
Aunty remarked to my mom on seeing me” you know Gomathy; your son likes you more than your husband.”
I saw my dad’s face getting small, hurt.
I went back to play and no one said anything to me later, but I stopped going to their house.