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Rohan Mishra stood in the balcony holding the railings. He turned mummy-wards every few seconds and she served him some tasty white goo with a spoon. He would then resume his squirrel watching.

Through the branches of the neem tree, Rohan saw 13-month-old Disha Das in her balcony. She was walking out of the door. Eager voices from within egged her on. She stopped and tottered. “Fall, Fall!” Rohan wished. But she turned around and walked back into the room, towards cheers and loud claps. “They will spoil her this way.” Rohan thought as he gulped down his food.

The squirrel seemed to be grinning. Rohan wished it would fall down and die. No luck. He shook his hand at it and yelled “DAAAAAAH !!” and thus knocked the bowl of tasty white stuff down from mummy’s hand. She said something annoying, which Rohan paid no attention to, and went away. “Good,” he thought, “I hated the stuff anyway.” He decided it was time to do something and turned. He let go of the railing. The squirrel cheered.

Then he slipped on what he had spilled and fell face forward on the floor.

Later that day, as he watched someone on TV say, “Mates! Take a walk.” (Years later, Rohan would be able to read Pirates of the Caribbean on the screen.) he had to put up with Disha’s mummy gloating away to glory.

He concentrated on the screen where truly gory looking evil men were walking underwater.

Posted on Wednesday, March 1st, 2006 at 1:00 pm and filed under life, stories, babies.

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