Highly Inflammable! That could best describe our Achachan. Anger comes to him naturally, but more often, unintentionally.

As mischievousness was the most salient quality we two, Vinod and I, had, we were like lighters in front of a petrol bomb. We were staying at a village called Kilivayal, close to the town Adoor, where Achachan worked.

We returned from school only to play Cricket with all the neighborhood boys. Our friends involved almost all boys around our house, and that friendship was beyond every casts and creeds. Siju, Boban, Alby, Shiju, Anish, Suresh, Satyan, Sujit, Bhanu, Kalesh, Libu, etc were the major members belonged to our team we called ‘Kilivayal 11'

Most of the time we played on ground of St. Cyril’s College (where our Achachan teaches, even today). As the professor's children, we had an easy access to the College premises and ground and this had also helped us in tapping much respect from our friends.

Other times, after the harvest season and monsoon, we could use Edathundil Appachan's rice field as the play-ground. All the boys preferred this as it was much broader and the land had by now grown fresh grass which was soft and satiny. On this field, we could act like Jhontys and Yuvrajs as fielders.

Wherever was the ground, and whatever was the match, we had a strict timeline from Achachan to return home by 6 every day. After his daily works and friend-meets, he would come back home and wait in the sit-out of our rented home, (which also belonged to Edathundil Appachan), reading a newspaper. Repeatedly, he would raise his head and see whether we were coming from play. As you would have expected by now, most of the days we played beyond gone beyond six and six thirties. But Achachan could not catch us every time, as we used to come by a back-side route and sneaked into home using the back door. Amma had been the only witness to our 'we-have-been-here-since-long' kind of strolling through the kitchen door and those almost-silent murmurs exchanged between us. She never used to reveal our 'crash-landing' though. But whenever we got caught by Achachan for being too late, either he would give us a deadly stare, which was severe than a stone pelt, or, though rarely, some minor 'caning treatments'

One day there was this cricket tournament we declared against Vayala, a village close by. The stake was nothing less but 5 rupees! :). The match was pretty cutthroat, and both the teams played hard to win the prize money. At the end, somehow it ended up in a verbal fight. And by the time we reached home, it was close to eight o clock. After having a bath at the well itself, we slid into the house through the kitchen door like usual, but directly landed up in front of Achachan who was sitting in the prayer room. He was really angry seeing us coming at such an odd time.

Breaths got stuck between the befuddling tension we were going through. Till now he had not opened his mouth at all but it was obvious that a lot of words have already piled up against us and plodding on his tongue, impatiently. Slowly he made us to see that he was intentionally looking at the cane that was kept near the window. We also gave it an unfriendly look and we got the clue (as expected). It was a new cane, freshly cut from the nearby communist pacha (Munnani, we call the plant).

As Prabha (our all-time negotiator to Achachan) had already started with the daily-evening prayers, he felt like postponing his decision on us till the prayer ends. It was more painful to wait for the punishment than to get it at the moment. We also took part in the prayer but passively. Our minds were full of the upcoming moments.

After the prayer songs, it was time to read from the Bible. At his turn, Achachan took the Bible, and started reading aloud. He looked like too much tensed about his boys' irresponsible attitude on life as he flipped the pages towards the New Testament. His first verse came like this; "pishachakunnu ningalude pithavu"! (John 8:44- You belong to your father, the devil). Alas! We raised our heads unbelievably. He had stopped reading there but was still looking into the Bible.

A second later, Achachan laughed aloud. In the next few moments what we witnessed was one of the greatest laughter rounds in our home. We could not believe he actually got to read it. Amma judged that he deserved it, as she never liked our 'angry Achachan'.

In the end, he forgot about the punishment and we hid the communist pacha in right time.

Jesus saves. Yes!

Whenever the sisters from Powai convent meet Femin chettan, they will have only one subject to talk about; Agnes, our Aggie. It is because Aggie now goes to the play school runs by the sisters and her talks become big-talks around there and among all who know Aggie.

Deena sister revealed the latest Aggie-talk to Femin chettan yesterday. After seeing the Sister in the same nunnery uniform every day, Aggie couldn't help pouring her heart out to Sister sometime last week. As she thought the Sister doesn’t have as many clothes to change everyday, she had an offer in mind; "Sister I will ask my amma to get you new clothes when she comes from the US"

What to tell back, the sister just nodded.

She was on a month's trip to Washington with her Appa, to meet her Amma, Jilly. In her own words, her schedule also contained a glance of 'Obama uncle' but she told us that he did not come out while she was out there. (This is what Femin chettan made her to believe, I think).

After coming back to India, though she did not have much of a 'Jet Lag' as expected by us, she had enough of something we felt as an 'Eat Lag' as she was busy trying a Fork on a chapatti.

What attracted us more was not anything above, but her recent multilingual talk-attempts as she approached one by one. While she asked 'Paani' to her maid, 'Water' was that she asked to her Aunty. And it was 'Vellam' she wanted from Ebie.

As Aggie-talk goes on like this, let's wait for something funnier very soon.

Talking on Cellphone in an ATM could be fatal to your monetary health. It could easily cheat your thoughts and free you off your savings. And sharing an ATM centre with such people could be dangerous too and my story will substantiate this point.

I was busy begging some money to one of the money telling machines kept at the famous Powai Galleria branch of ICICI Bank. Then this 'lady on phone' entered with so much to talk and conclude with no more minutes to spare. She kept on talking while the machine ate her card, chewed it and finally excreted the money she demanded. Since she was too busy or such over-confident that the machine wouldn't make a mistake in counting, she did not even count the notes and left the Machine like a ball bounced back.

After a second's silence, the machine started screaming as if something got stuck in its stomach. I looked back and saw her card not taken back by her and thus the machine was angrily screaming. Without thinking much, I took the card out and flung to look for her. But she had disappeared.

I proceeded to the bank branch attached to the ATM centre and gave the card to one of the senior executives. He offered me a seat and asked my name. Respectfully, he then sped up the little banking I had to do.

While coming out of the bank, a chill struck my thoughts and I asked myself, what if this bank executive wouldn't handover the card to its owner? What proof I have that I handed over the card to the bank? One thing was obvious; the machine had captured my face, while I took the card out. And what if it never reaches its owner? Who will stand chargeable?

I walked back to the bank and confirmed with the man whether he could give me some declaration that I had handed the card over to the bank. He said, he had already informed the card owner and she was rushing back. Another executive came and thanked for what I did.

While walking back with the peace I acquired, a sad fact came into my thoughts. Today, we barely trust any one. Rather we can't. A wholehearted help to the other could land you up in pitiful trouble. In the drought of truth and wholeheartedness, our minds have dried up to a materialistic desert full of greed and self-importance.

And another truth revealed itself as the moral of the story. I realized that even I had done this mistake by talking on phone while attending the ATM machine. It was indeed a great lesson, why I shouldn't do it again.