Tuesday, January 19, 2010


I remember as a Kid, My father used to tell me.. "You write well Son! You should compile all you 'scribble', and One day I will get it published." I am not sure whether I write well or not.. But the the promise my Dad made would always remain a strange illusion for me. I know not, what is it that drags me back into letting my mind flow with the thoughts as quandry as these.. I know not either, what do i want to actually achieve out of writing all that I think I would.. But I know just this, that "scribbling" all over again, would surely make my Dad a Happy man!
I still remember that first day at school.. Papa had clutched me in his arms in front of Nursery B. I was supposed to charter out my eventful ,yet not as successful a stint, at the Best school in the city.. And here i was.. Unwilling to let go of the arms which held me so safe within... I know not what I feared, or why did I not want to rush down and play in the class like other kids. Dad like always realised what kept me tucked inside him. He as dutifully as ever promised to buy me a Cricket Set and I promptly got down and stopped crying!! The world had witnessed ever so quietly, the advent of Rahul Govil...
It was evening and papa was about to come back home, and I stood waiting in the balcony to see whether he kept his promise or not. I stood at the door to see him walk in with his hands behind his back. I was anxious. "Has he forgotten that he promised me something??" "Does he not remember that he had to get me something?"! My mind started conjouring up images of empty hands making their way to lift me up.. His hands came around.. Formed a loop..AND Lo And Behold!!! i got my first stint with a personal cricket bat and a ball..!
Dad like then, and for a long long time after that just could not learn to say NO to anything that I and Didi wanted.

For you, who read this small piece above here, would promptly feel how small a thing it is. I mean it obviously not vey great. You expect allmost all Fathers to fulfill whims and fancies of their children. It would have been a great story, had he gotten me a Mercedes instead of the Plastic Bat! but for me, it is these small things which matter the most!