Klishmaklaver

That evening had been like none other.  The prelude was a lovely start to a beautiful Winter's Saturday at our Pune home. My Papa's childhood friend, whom I address as Bappa and his loving wife-  Pachchi  had visited us after ages. And in tow were Pachchi's Sister and Brother-In-Law. Over the home-cooked Lunch of typically favourite dishes from our Konkani cuisine, began a jolly good chat between the group of wisened minds. Pachchi's Brother-In-Law who she addressed as Bhavaji thankfully had an extremely jovial nature and he had soon livened up their get-together with his impromptu jokes.I found him very entertaining and it was a relief to realise that I wasn't feeling pressurised to behave in a certain  manner as the elderly usually tend to expect. I was least bit bored between them, like I'd dreaded. "Oh! Come on, Vasant. It's my son's car. The driver will drop you two back after dinner. It will be great fun, I promise! The more...

Buy Social Causes T-Shirts online at Myntra.com and visit the largest community of Indian Bloggers at BlogAdda.com Flip, he'd sent the shoe in his right foot flying high up in the air. Gravity was bringing it down now. He ran towards it and caught it, back on the hook of his upturned right foot. Next, Flip went the shoe from his left foot, flying high and back. Walking to school early in the morning through lonely lanes, this was his way of making the stretch interesting. It's amazing how he managed to get to school on time! My Pa-in-Law aka Vijay  was quite a bright student I'm told but he preferred to do things his way. A little too differently for comfort. He always managed to get on the teacher's nerves. Once the teacher had caught him scouring the floor under his desk. "How do you manage to slip off the bench everytime I ask you'll to take notes?" inquired Father D'Mello. Vijay rose off his knees and stood...

This post is a winner at BlogAdda's “HOWZAT?” a husky voice hollered. A short, curly haired, fair lad raised a finger and declared the batsman bowled. The dark and lanky figure with that husky voice now ran towards the bowler screaming on the top of the lungs. In no time the thin framed, dimple chinned bowler, Rajeev had been lifted up into the air and the team was exulting over their victory. This was my team, a motley crew of young boys aged between 9-14 years old. And that lanky, dark cricketer with the husky voice was me. With crew-cut hair, a terribly tanned face and scraped knobby knees showing beneath those fatigued shorts, I was easily mistaken as a boy amongst the group of lads. I was a complete tomboy who ate, breathed and lived cricket like any other boy of my age. The society where I lived consisted of a ring of 10 buildings. The oval foreground of the buildings was divided into two equal halves by a speed-breaker in the centre. Two rival teams existed in the same ...