I sat in my seventh standard classroom and looked out of the window one day. Sir had still to come in to teach.
A hungry crow came down and started pecking at some Vada batter, left unattended by the boy grinding at the stone in the tiny hotel located opposite our classroom. It pecked and pecked as I watched aghast.
Little did the crow know that his very act would soon deprive the hotel of a promising customer.
Finally, after what seemed ages, the boy came out and shooed it away. It was our colony hotel, where delicious snacks were prepared each day. Few had any inkling of what really happened in the background, of the ingredients mixed in it and who really relished it before them.
Armed with this vital piece of information, I never ate from there again, till maybe a few years ago, when I took my sons there to show them the place.
Another image that remains vividly with me is that of the time we young teens traveled to college in our colony bus one morning.
The bus, moving at snail's pace that day, probably due to some jam on the busy city road, aggravated some boys sitting on the back seat where I and two of my friends sat.
A truck moved inches away from us and crawled to a halt. The cleaner got out of the tiny door to attend to something. The boy seated near the bus window, reached out and FATAAACK... gave one tight slap on the cleaner's bum.
The poor fellow looked all around, puzzled. What had hit him?
Finally, when we burst out laughing, he looked at us.
Before he could react, the bus moved away.
The scene was so hilarious, I couldn't just get it out of my memory till date.
