tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52177864386920798842024-03-13T22:32:06.503+05:307designersAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07786170545144559627noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5217786438692079884.post-16731923972502173042016-09-07T20:17:00.002+05:302016-09-07T20:18:14.654+05:30Red Shawl<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KWN6oIuVb3c/V9AoGYk8TTI/AAAAAAAAAQM/AGlzBbN6PrQT1f9ZgpIqjOMnhw9H_1ulwCLcB/s1600/232.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KWN6oIuVb3c/V9AoGYk8TTI/AAAAAAAAAQM/AGlzBbN6PrQT1f9ZgpIqjOMnhw9H_1ulwCLcB/s400/232.jpg" width="280" /></a></div>
“Papa,” asked my five-year-old daughter from the bed as I ventured to switch off her light after a goodnight kiss, the last <br />
<br />
Christmas eve, “Do you think there is some person called Santa who fulfills all our wishes?” “Well”, I said, “We all have our <br />
<br />
Santas to fulfill our dreams. The only difference is that not all Santas are dressed in red,” I replied.<br />
<br />
<br />
“I will ask only the red-capped, white-bearded Santa, like the one on this card," she said pointing her fingers to one bearing <br />
<br />
father
Santa with a sack full of gifts, “They look more real and loving”, she
said. “Of course, kid,” I replied, “You can ask the red-<br />
<br />
capped Santa uncle for your gift, I am sure he will fulfill it.”<br />
<br />
<br />
“Well
dad,” she replied yawning, “I have already asked for my gift from him,”
she said.” And what is that my little one has asked <br />
<br />
for?" I enquired. “Oh nothing much, just a soft red flowered shawl, nice and fluffy.” “But just last week your mother brought a <br />
<br />
nice red cashmere shawl, the one you like so much,” I answered, “I am sure you have asked for some other colour, is it bright <br />
<br />
blue?” I asked. “No Papa,” she replied, “I want one exactly like the one mom gave me,” so saying she pulled the quilt over her <br />
<br />
face.<br />
<br />
<br />
I
looked at the window, but it was closed. Yes it was cold, just like the
weatherman had forecast, lot of chilly breeze and fall in <br />
<br />
night
temperature. Suddenly, her face emerged from the quilt cover, “Papa, do
you think it is colder outside than it is inside?” <br />
<br />
she asked.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Oh yes,” I replied, “the inside temperature is warmer than the outside and then it can be controlled.” “Do you think Rani's <br />
<br />
children would be crying from cold? She asked, with a worried tone. “Rani?” I asked puzzled, “Who is Rani?” “Oh the doggy that <br />
<br />
has given pups under the tree on the other side of the road,” she replied. “Well I am sure they would. God gives the living the <br />
<br />
ability to fight and survive,” I said switching off her light and softly closing the door.<br />
<br />
<br />
Next day was Christmas and I had all plans of catching up with the lost sleep a busy schedule had caused. But a worried and <br />
<br />
shocked voice of my daughter woke me up rather early the next morning. “Papa the shawl has been stolen”, she exclaimed amid <br />
<br />
sobs. Shawl? which shawl?” I asked.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Oh! Papa I had covered Rani's pups with my red shawl yesterday evening, it was so cold but someone has stolen it. Oh! They are <br />
<br />
shivering”
she said. “You know child your mother is going to be pretty wild
hearing this,” I said. “That is why I asked Santa to give <br />
<br />
me a red coloured shawl as a present, daddy,” said a frustrated voice.<br />
<br />
<br />
The morning mist still loomed thick. On the bench near the road-side tree I could spot something red. I took my daughter's <br />
<br />
fingers and walked towards it. On the bench lay a white-haired man, whose wrinkled face and white eyebrows peeped from <br />
<br />
underneath my daughter's shawl.<br />
<br />
<br />
His
eyes were closed. Only his breath revealed that it was a comfortable
slumber. “Hey Vidushi,” I said turning to her, “you know <br />
<br />
what this man had wished? He had wished for a warm covering and see his Santa has fulfilled his desire, I said with a smile.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Yes Papa,” replied my daughter “but Rani will never be able to take it back from him,” <br />
<br />
she said in a tone that reflected a child's bafflement at the way Santas give and take gifts!<br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07786170545144559627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5217786438692079884.post-63795428323820758212014-02-11T13:17:00.000+05:302016-09-07T20:02:21.820+05:30scaring nature<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/6fau8wzfKX8?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07786170545144559627noreply@blogger.com0