You don’t know. But I have done that.

It’s simple. Fairly like a story.

During the last Easter, I was going home to meet my parents. It was a train journey.

The snake-like train resembled a pregnant belly but full of nostalgic wistfulness. The old man who had colonized my side seat never seemed to be friendly enough to get up and offer the seat to me. I tried to disregard it and settled myself on the upper birth.

The train reached Pune. The rest of the journey seemed to be an unending twine of hour-like minutes. By this time, some Police Officers came in patrolling with their noses spread and eyes wide open like church bells.

Like every other passenger, I too was asked to show my luggage. The inspector’s face bloomed with a disgraceful interest when he found the newly bought trolley-bag. Suddenly, he asked me to open the bag.

Some smuggling racket had been seized during the day and thus the inspectors were checking each and every package they found nosy (sometimes cozy too).

A pack of cotton kerchiefs, specially bought for my Papa, two crates of Dairy Milk chocolate, a fine leather bag for my mom, clothing kept for my brother and sister…the inspector was finding himself amused while pulling the neatly packed items one by one, wondering he was in a ‘tug-of-war’

Now comes our ‘hero’, the wine bottle. Like a dog snatching a bone, the police man picked up the bottle. By this time his fellow police men also joined the bandwagon. I was called towards a private zone on the train. Taking my greenness with Hindi for a ride, they could convince me to pay 1000 bucks in order avoid a police enquiry and subsequent legal actions. ‘If you go by the law’, the lead officer mumbled, ‘you will end up paying 3000 bucks’

‘1000 bucks fine for a 300 bucks wine??’ Irony scowled at me.

‘No sirs… I don’t carry that much money...’ But I had, I knew.

‘Shhh….. quietly’…. The officer reminded me. ‘Show me your purse’ … He added.

My purse betrayed me and I ended up paying 1000. Money works wonders….; the unlawful bottle returned to my bag in no time.

I couldn’t believe myself. Distracted and the most distressed, I reached my home.

But by that time, I had realized that my petty wine had transformed to a pricey Champagne.

‘Am I talking to Mr Santhosh Wilson?’, the HR guy asked courteously. ‘Yes, may I know whoz online…’ courtesy found to be working well with me too.

‘I’m Naveen from Global Heights consultancy. Sir, I have a job vacancy, which would suit you better than your current profile…May I know whether you are looking for a job switch? ‘

‘Please carry on… ‘ I suggested.

‘The opening is with one of the leading Content Editing company in the town…they are looking for a Senior Editor to lead their content team… ‘

‘Mr Naveen…’, I interrupted. ‘The matter is that I ‘m not so keen on Editing…I mean, I just like to do advertising concepts and writing related to that… ‘

‘You mean, this job is not for you??’ His enthusiasm had lowered to a kind of monotonic veracity.

‘Yes…’

But his next shot came very instantly. ‘But I’m sure, you can refer me one of your friends who might fit this vacancy.’

‘Oh sure…’ I browsed my memory. ‘I have a friend whose name is Amar…you can contact him at 9820…’

I couldn’t finish as his reply swirled in between; ‘I have contacted one Amar already… ‘

‘Is it Amar Negi ? ‘ And I was not at all curious about the response.

But what came out was something very unpredicted…. ‘YES……AND IT IS THE SAME GUY WHO GAVE ME YOUR NUMBER……..’

‘Hello….err…Pardon….!!! ??? ‘

There was a farmer named Gopalan lived in my village. One day, he was going to a nearby stream to take his morning bath.

On the way, he found two snakes mating. Afraid of snakes, he threw a stone to divert them from the pavement. Unfortunately, the stone hit one of the snakes and it died on the spot. In the scurry, the other snake disappeared somewhere.
Though saddened by his instinctive act, Gopalan proceeded towards the stream. But a gloom of vengeance was following him…a few feet behind.

The time he stepped on to the river, something struck him from behind. It was the other snake, which had lost its mate. Before him drawing enough time to think, the snake nibbled him... sinking its teeth deep into his thighs.

Gopalan screamed! Beyond trees, walls, fields and people….

He tried pulling the snake out. But it pained him more and more. Blood started spurting like a spray.

Gopalan felt dizziness as he found things around him fading. He fell down.

One of the men carried a knife with him. He pulled the snake with one hand and cut it into two. With pain, Gopalan opened his eyes. He said…’it was my mistake…I killed its mate….’ And he closed his eyes. It never opened again.

It was a non-poisonous snake. But he died because of a nerve breakdown.

With a charming insolence, the steam carried away the red drops of that great revenge.

By the way, there is one guy I wanted you to meet. He is my own brother. Brand Name, Vinod Matthew Wilson.

Describing his heroics is pretty difficult and I ‘m a bit sleepy now, so lemme tell you one of his several grand ‘blunderful’ spoofs.

He was around 5 years old when he gave birth to this cute bungle that we still haunt to get an inspired laugh whenever coming together.

It was the time of our forefathers’ feast. All the big-small, bigger-smaller, biggest-smallest members in the family were gathered there in our ancestral house. Forefathers’ feast is an important occasion for the family because, more than remembering the deceased fellows, it played a convincing role in bringing all the family members together for sometime.

Yes, this day we all prayed for the ancestors’ souls. As usual, my grandmother wept for sometime remembering her lost children, father and mother. After this, it was the time for the grand lunch.

Before any ‘living member’ tasting the food, dinner, properly served, would be offered to the departed souls specially in a remote room. It was the job of the eldest member of the family. My grandpa had done this reverentially and he came out after closing the door.

Sometime later, while we children were eating in another room, there heard a screech followed by crumbs of laughter. The source of laughter was well known to us, as our grandpa had been gifted with a great sense of humor and we guys used to hear him laughing at every other minute for something or the other. But now, at this moment what had made him laugh in a mirth?

We forgo the food and ran.

At the ancestors’ room we saw my little bro standing amused in front of the humor-stricken grandfather. With a slight coyness, Grandpa had pointed towards the room. Though smelled a rat, we kept our reverence in due extent as we were going to peep into the esteemed haven of forefathers.

There we saw, but to our wariness, a group of dogs eating the dinner ceremoniously. What a pity???

By this time our grandma came with a small cane and the uninvited guests ran away.

But still, the grandpa was going like a “brakeless bus.” Laughter, another laughter and another and another…’Gone mad’, Grandma hinted in a sulk.

Later in the day he confessed us the top secret that drove him eccentric.

That my brother, who was watching the dogs eating the foods, had then asked him, “Grandpa grandpa, your papa and mamma had tails or what???

Happiness spurs your moods up! Even the smallest things would feel the greatest. Then you will feel like talking to people and sharing that great reason of being so happy and charged up.

A Rickshaw driver is my hero today. I just got him yesterday from Andheri. I had to go to Santacruz.

‘I have to reach Santacrus urgently’ , I told him.

Unlike most of the other drivers, this guy has got me through the shortest distance possible, where traffic hardly annoyed.

At the end, the meter read 40. I gave him 50 bucks and he returned 11. By this time, the meter had jumped to 41. I gave him back the 1 rupee. With a pleasing face he hesitated.!

‘39 is the exact fare and you already gave me that’

Amusement widened my eyes, though there was nothing to be amused so much. But hearing something like this, from some one like him had a special charm of itself!

Now I’m happy because I got him to take me to and from my office every day.

I have got cheated. A lot of times; by friends...fate...and even sometimes by formless feelings too. But yesterday's one was a little chimerical.

After meeting a guy in the Yahoo Lower Parel office, I went to a nearby Fresh Juice Stall. From the menu items recited by the waiter, I picked my favorite, Mango Milk Shake.

Ji Saab Thoda Rukhiye.. (Please wait sir) He told me.

I saw him jumping here and there with a little uncertainty across his face, and he disappeared for the next ten minutes. Then he appeared with the Mango Milk shake.

With the first sip, I felt something strange on my tongue. 'No, this is not the Mango Milk Shake I wanted.' With one more sip, this strangeness reverted to a kind of nostalgia, which reminded me of my glorious days with my father who used to buy me the blissfully tasted 'Mangola' whenever I used to go out with him.

I looked into the drink once again. The real shake came then. Instead of a real Mango Milk Shake, he poured in some local mango drink and a scoop of milk powder. Mango Milk Shake or Mango Milk Shock?

Anyway, with a fresh sip, I concluded that it was a Mangola Milk Shake.

I just called up the waiter and asked for the bill. He said 40 Rupees. Great entertainment! 8 rupees Mangola + 2 rupees milk powder = 40 rupees Mango Milk Shake. I couldn't help asking him, 'How many Mangolas' have you poured in?'

He did not have answer for that, but had a solution; 'Sir please gimme 25 rupees only'. Ceasefire! He made a new bill.
(By the way, guys this can be a great advertisement for Mangola)

God is blind. Fully and seriously. Since I don’t want to join an atheist’s army, I must not say there is no God!

Here is the story of a young boy who died yesterday, like a bud falling apart before sprouting completely.

Nibin is what we call him. Making the last 17 years of him a painful past, bloody death snatched him away from the caress of his mother and only sister. For a silly reason, Dengue!

His mother is a widow. She lost her husband just 6 years after her marriage. Nibin, a couple of years old then, was crying bitterly, seeing his mother in moaning.

Without loosing hope in Life, She grew her kids. Once again, she sowed all her dreams. And the horrible night of yesterday, like a blast of sadness, shattered all those dreams. And he went away.

Nibin. See, from right or left, you can spell it the same way! Just like how his loving sister used to do. Just like how his friends used to do. Now she has nothing to do, nor they, except wiping the clueless tears.

A horrible nothingness looms my heart, and there is no tears, no laments, but only an undying silence!

And here is our ‘loving’ God! I still believe him, just that He is totally blind.

When you pray for others, you get something for yourself.

Today my sister’s results came out. She has passed her Examination miraculously.

The former sentence is valid here because, I have taken a vow yesterday that I would pray in the Mahim church every possible Wednesdays till my last day in Mumbai. It was for her.

And today, she got her good results. I still remember the day when she came back after the examination, completely broken.

But I don’t want to tell her about this now, coz, she has another year to pass her graduation. What if she takes this vow for a ride?

And now I’m very happy to see her happiness. And that's my great profit in this deal. In deed, lot of thanks to our Lady of Love.