We can miss things by a second and loss them forever. A whole lot of things; even a loving grandfather.

It was our Christmas vacation, and we, Vinod, Prabha and me, were thrilled to be at Edamon, a place where our grandparents used to live alone. We came here to spend the whole ten days’ vacation.

Edamon has a nostalgic grasp in our lives. We used to live there earlier. We finished our primary schooling in this majestic land… the slinky canal flowing beside our house took us the first lessons of swimming… We rode our first cycle through the dust-filled roads of this place… The caning I had received with screech from Joykutty sir in the 4th standard of Govt Lower Primary School has its piquant reminiscence even toGday. I along with my brother, used to buy beedis from Pathumma Beevi’s shop and smoke them all hiding in Guard sir’s murky rubber estate! By now, you must have got a clear hint that how poignantly we had been affected by this place. Well, let’s come back; I will tell you more about Edamon later in another story.

Upon our arrival, Christmas was officially announced in the house. A beam of smile had dawned and spread across the old parent’s faces; like a beam of light cheep into a closed room all of a sudden. A flamboyant Christmas tree was put up, adorned with hanged lightings, color papers and stars. Our grandpa was an expert in making Christmas stars. As our arrival was pre-decided, he had already made all the arrangements to make stars. He cut bamboo in to small bendy sticks, and tied them with tags. With the help of papers and glue, he finally carved out an attractive star, which had six big corners. We hanged it in front of the tree and lighted a candle inside it.

A Christmas carol was performed in front of the tree and there was no other audience other than our exhilarated grandparents. We were treated with kisses. It’s great to be blessed by your grandparents, isn’t it?

The night was amazing. All the five of us slept on a single bed specially made. Stories were told, upon which dreams weaved wings and one of the most beautiful and obsessing nights was being flowed away.

The next day was a Sunday. The morning was promising a long day to kick-start our vacation lookouts. Swimming, trekking, fishing and every groovy option was on the list, and to begin with, church going wasn’t an option but a must-to-do.

Breakfast was on the table and everyone except my brother and me was there. We weren’t in the premises. Later we were told that our grandmother called us as aloud as she could. But those calls weren’t reaching our eardrums.

We missed a breakfast with our grandfather.

It was with our grandpa that we used to go to church. This day, he felt uneasy and we started off alone.

We missed him walking with us.

Before we could reach the church, Panikkathi, our helper came from home and told us that our grandfather was not well and he wanted to urgently meet us.

We ran back. We didn't talk anything. We threw our legs roughly into the dried up rice fields and their narrow walkable bunds; three hearts beat at the same rumbling pace!

On the way, we heard someone saying, 'He is no more'. We didn’t hear it.

But the sight at home wasn’t familiar to us. We had never seen so many people standing near our small house before. Cornered here and there, they threw silence at each other. Their gloomy eyes stared at us mercifully and attended us with care as we slowly stepped into the house.

In front of us, our grand father was lying, blanketed, like a white cloud flowing in the air of prayers. His eyes were closed like a flower fell on the ground. His toes were tied and nose was blocked. Smell of agarbatti filled our senses and we felt that it was not him who was lying there.

Tears were not stopped. The love he gave us came out as tears and we had nothing to stop them. Was he just a grandfather to us? No way. He was our teacher; he taught us in the Sunday schools. He was our mate in the fields. He was our fruit-vendor; he gave us from mangoes to jackfruits to eggfruits. He was our friend; with whom we took baths in the nostalgic rivulet called chirattakonam. Nearby that rivulet, he had secretly fed a rat-snake christened by him as ‘kumar’. One day we found him feeding Kumar and that made us jealous of the snake. We were attached to him so intensely. Above all that he was a gentle man we could take pride of. V K George. That’ was not just a name for him. That was an address.

At that moment, we didn’t really realize what were about to miss. Tears had sunk our emotions and sobbings our thinking. We were sure of only one thing that our grandfather was not going to be with us any more. That no other home-made star would adorn our Christmas trees. That neither he would walk with us to the fields nor bring sweetest jackfruits freshly picked.

There was a smile on his face. It shined his face like the way the stars he made shined our faces. Looking at me it said, "never miss a chance to be with your parents, ever in your life!"

Young sister of mine later told me that she had seen the soul of our grandpa riding up in the air like a seraph, tinted by the scented smoke hailed from agarbattis burnt in front of his dead body. His spirit was white in colour.

No, I didn’t intend it. Don’t call it a prank.

April Fool’s Day takes me back to the past like a mad cow chewing all day’s grubby grass-rolls with a fascinating smile. With a demure slightness, the day pings back all those ‘horseplays and fooling arounds’!

A simple prank proved out to be a bit worrisome last year. I had called up my friend 3G’s (name changed to provoke him) momma in Kerala and gave her some shocking news! I informed her that he got married in Mumbai and was coming back home. With ample seriousness and convincing voiceover, she was told that this wife of him was a Punjabi, the only daughter in her family and hence the Sardarjis in Mumbai were about to make a riot in search of the girl. 3G was on his way of eloping with his wife.

The poor lady just asked me what I was saying as she couldn’t believe what I was saying. Her voice tapered and she was about to break down. She made a shrill cry and handed over the phone to his sister, who was watching all these.

Poor 3G, no one in this planet can think of him doing like that. Why about eloping and marrying, he even stays away from looking at a girl right for a while! But this mom believed with pain that her son got changed once he came to Mumbai 2 months before.

His sister told me that her mom was not feeling well. I couldn’t hold it any more as I got frightened that something wrong would happen. I told her that it was a prank directed by me. Though she did not really understand the meaning of April Fool’s day, she didn’t abuse me over the phone!

During my schooling days with my brother, innovative pranks used to give us brakeless laughter. Once we had created a ‘paper tiger’. We coiled rubber bands tightly on a matchstick and wrapped it in gift wrapper. At various crucial points on the walkway, we placed them and hid near to watch the fun. I still remember one of our innocent victims who took it with utmost care. After confirming that no one was watching him, he opened it like a greedy dog ragging a food trash. In a moment, he got shocked as the rubber band loosened matchstick and it created a krrrrrrrrrrrrr sound on the paper! Sure, our victim was not having a nice time! Wasn’t it creaky?

Another outstanding prank I did was with a friend, Jose. We superglued coins on some public places and roads. And the result was beyond our laughing limits!

Along with its fun, April Fool’s day has its difficult moments too. As an active prankster, you tend to disbelieve others even if they tell you actual facts. Theeppathi Muthalali died on April 1, but we refused to believe the person who first brought the news. Muthalali was a businessman and he used to run the main grocery store in Edamon, a place where we used to live. By the time we confirmed his death, he went under the soil.

One more April Fool’s day is in. My friends, I don’t really know what I should do to all of you. But 3G, Joseph and Jose, be sure, there is something on your way!! And of course, you too dear Jackass!!

‘Bed Bugs’ rhymes well. But make our life, a hell!

Bed bugs won’t care whether you are a male or female, cool or sentimental or whether your blog is growing. Come in group, they’ll booze your blood as if a Cranberry Bacardi Breezer.

The beauty of your nights and the story of your dreams will together turn to a nightmare as these sleep-slayers dine on your body.

I had days when I left my body wholeheartedly to their grand feasts. With me, one of my close friends, Santosh Kumar too had these ‘bugrighted’ days. We used to stay in a house in Coimbatore, where I did my PG Advertising Degree.

He had a bed, I, a mat, but we never slept! The bed bugs cheered all through!

An incidental story has its time here. 'Bed Bugs Killer Machine'. The Classified Advertisement read. ‘Kill all the bed bugs and put an end to your sleepless nights! .Original price Rs 1000. Our price, just 500’.

Uncle Johny couldn’t hold his excitement! In addition to writing for one, he went on to enlighten the neighbors with the news, since he thought that their life too would be as depressed as his own due to the prying bed bugs.

The news spread anticipation. Uncle Johny’s Bed Bug Machine came by post.

The Post Man came running. With him, a procession of eager villagers too.

Well packed in a hard-paper box, the machine evinced something special about it. Uncle Johny came forward. He seized the machine from the post man. With a kind of smugness, he opened the box. A

wesome, there was another box inside that! As brows got raised, he opened the second one. What was taken out was startling, a hammer and a stone!

There was a message attached to the hammer! It read like this; ‘When you find a bed bug, catch it with your hand and place it on the stone. Take the hammer and knock lightly till the bug dies’.

Later someone told that Uncle Johny had regained his consciousness at night! Bed bugs help too!