This is how it is . . .

(-posting an old draft.)

He was a kid, a mischievous type, but almost everyone considered him to be a silent, sincere, golden boy. There was no reason for him to be perceived the other way. Everyone used to just adore him. Almost everyone, I guess.. except the neighbours. Boy, did they know how good he was!

He had a ‘knack‘  for a systematic destruction of things – and specifically the neighbours’ scooter. That was always the target for his swordsmen, pike men, arrow men and even scouts from the mud-fort built during Diwali. How could the army survive without a war being waged? What would they do otherwise and how would the king, Shivaji, be happy?

The monsoon had begun a couple of weeks earlier and the weather was cool and pleasant. He had just returned from his maternal uncle’s (mama’s) place. It was the last day of the summer holidays. This simply was the opportune moment.

Only the kid knew what all ways he had tricked the neighbour.  It was last day before school. He just had to make his presence felt, before the school began.

He played around with the scooter. Systematically disassembled some parts, forgot about it, went to the maidan and played cricket in the evening – just like any other day.

When he came back home, to his disbelief he saw an argument between his parents and the neighbours. The neighbours held him guilty for the regular goof ups in their scooter.

He lied. He completely rejected that he had anything to do with it. He was just too afraid to tell the truth. His parents supported him, for what ‘he’ said.

He felt he had won. In his heart of hearts, he had learned a lesson.

The thought of his parents supporting and trusting him – had taught him a lesson he remembered for life.

He knew they would support him and believe in him unconditionally. . This lie gave him the courage to tell the truth – always everafter.