That Hide & Seek Game

Remembering that hide n seek game and those series of emotions that flowed in the hidden light of the night’s darkness.

… …

We were running frantically towards the end of the street. We had 30 more counts before he would open his eyes and would see us running, holding hands…

My heart was pounding, not just because we were running out of our breaths, but because we were running together. Without any prior planning, we both had simply looked at each other and at that second had decided that we were gonna hide together in this game.

She was holding my hand so tightly, almost pulling me along with her. Probably her excitement was more than mine, or probably her fear. She didn’t look back, towards her brother, who was counting with his eyes closed up against the tree. She was a rebel, and that day she showed it.

The count was almost complete. All of our other friends had already chosen their hiding place and were almost invisible unless, ofcourse you knew already their usual hiding place. We knew where everyone used to hide, quite easy to mark an area where each one of them used to hide. We were running towards a new area altogether.

He announced his hunt beginning with a roar, declaring that soon he’s gonna catch all of us.

I smiled. “Not us, not today.”

We took a sharp left at the end of the street and then a right and disappeared in the maze of turns, till when we reached a deserted neighborhood leading to a dead-end.

We looked for a place where we could hide, from everyone. There was an old van, rusting at the end of the street. It was dark, and probably this part of the neighborhood had no residents. Not even stray animals could be seen. Was it luck or something fishy; Mr. Fate’s prior warning before he hits hard, I thought.

We went behind the van. It was parked right ahead of a street parkbench, such that the bench was not visible in any way unless you move around the car all the way to its back.

We went and hid behind the bench. We felt like tiny people as we could easily be hidden behind the bench from head to toe.

She finally let go of my hands. Holding hands… So pure, simple, emotional, and sweaty… Uncomfortable.

I sat there rubbing my hands on my jeans, slowly wiping off the sweat of it. Just then, she grabbed my shirt and pulled it so hard that I was pulled along with it. She asked in an anxious tone “They won’t be able find us here, will they?”

I was about to shrug when she herself said “No they won’t. This is the perfect place.”

I continued staring at her. She was beautiful beyond my ability to describe her beauty. So I won’t. But yes, she was way beyond my league.

We sat there talking about various possibilities, fantasies about what could happen if they catch us here. She was not willing to become the seeker, no matter what. Almost all of her plans had me showing myself up and then taking the seeker with me, keeping her safe. So much for the game, I thought. But in the end, she will again say “Nah! I won’t let you go…”

Time passed, rather quickly than I thought (read ‘than I wanted’). She occasionally touched my hands, and I rather skillfully took my hands away. Hey! Don’t judge me! It was summer and I hated sweat. I’d rather prefer something equally emotional and direct, not involving sweat.

I think she sensed it too, as her lips had tightened and she was looking at me without blinking, from my eyes to my neck, and back. Her neck was tilted and I could almost hear her heart beats, which were risen way up above normal excitement level.

There was mumbling sound nearby and then a ruckus, and our whole gang, one after other, appeared out of nowhere in the street that we were hiding in. They were laughing at the seeker, who had been trying to find them since last half hour, but had no luck in doing that. (It was half an hour already?!!)

I saw them coming towards us, scanning and analyzing the street for some good hiding place, and then I saw her pale and disappointed face. She was looking at me, her expressions were hard to describe. But they said “Damn!”

I gave her the ‘its fine’ expression and she nodded.

We had not disclosed anything to each other yet about our desires or intentions or imaginations, but I think they would have been same for both of us. We couldn’t do what we wanted to do that day, but being 10 year old toddlers, we hardly cared. We soon blended with out friends and forgot the whole episode.

Now I don’t even remember what was it that we wanted to do that time, but it doesn’t matter. After all, what could possibly be in an innocent 10 year olds mind!?

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Little Business Ad’venture’

When and how did I carry out my first, small business venture…?

… …

Everyone loves money. And I was no different even at that age when I thought money was useful only to fill up my piggy bank. And filling it up fully was the only life goal under monetary category that one would have.

I had a small red colored miniature Post box shaped piggy bank. I used to hide it behind my old clothes on the top shelf of my cupboard. As a child, I thought that if I found it difficult to reach that spot then it was hard enough for anyone to find it. 😀

I usually never asked for things or stuff from my parents or anyone else, except for daily food needs. Toys, games, clothes, chocolates and ice-creams… I used to get them without any tantrum, or even demand. The reason was that I used to take great care of all my stuff. Even after all these years, I have got some of my stuff from childhood without any scratch. And due to this, my parents used to buy me things without my soliciting for it.

But I had strong preferences in things I accepted. They had to be best or of high value. I didn’t accept things that were cheaply made or were commonly found with every other child. Say for example, I didn’t accept toffees and cheap chocolates. I needed a 5-star instead. But still if someone would give me something that I didn’t quite like, I’ll put it to some good use, at least. Or I’ll give it to other kids when they come to my place to play with my toys, so that my other toys were not harmed. 😛

A fair (carnival) was set-up in our town. My dad and his friends were setting up a food stall in the carnival. And mother was probably gonna help them with that. I was bored at their stalls where we had to serve people the food instead of eating it ourselves. So, I used to sit at the nearby Toy stall. The person was a friend of my dad, so he let me sit there.

The carnival was gonna stay for five days. First day I just sat there looking at all the people who came to buy different toys. I understood one thing from that. For selling toys, we had to influence the kids and not the grownups. They would just do whatever the kids would obstinate for or do tantrum for.

I too wanted to sell stuff. I asked my parents to let me sell stuff in that toy stall. Our neighbors gave me a box full of whistles which were shaped like a-biscuit-thin-harmonica. All the reeds played the same tone, same whistle. I had a real harmonica back then, so I had no problem in selling them, as for me they were not of high standard. My neighbors didn’t accept any money from me for these. They wanted me to fulfill my desire of selling things in the carnival.

Next day, I came to the Toy stall with that box full of whistles. The store owner gave me a corner place just outside the store. I sat on a small chair in front of a small table on which I neatly stacked the whistles under rows of different colors. As I had no cost in acquiring the whistles, I thought 2 rupees would be an appropriate price for one whistle.

Families and kids used to pass from the toy store often. And kids would force their parents to visit the toy store to buy them some or other toy. Whenever some kid came in front of the store, I would play that whistle casually, without saying a word. The kid would instantly get lured of the whistle in my hand. I somehow managed to know how other kids were different from me and how they were easily tempted for things that they didn’t have and someone else had.

When the grownups would offer him things from the store, the kid would also point towards the tiny whistle thing that I was playing. And as it was way cheaper than the other things available in the toy store, the grownups wouldn’t hesitate incurring an additional expense.

Earlier I used to sell whistle to each customer of the toy store. Then slowly, kids came to the store only to buy my whistle. I slowly started to take over the business of the toy store owner. Kids were more interested in buying my whistle instead of his expensive toys, and parents too were not hesitant in buying their kids a cheap toy instead of shelling out more money on expensive toys.

I gave my last whistle to the toy store owner as a gift. In just three days, I sold all the whistles in stock and enjoyed the satisfaction of having my piggy bank full. 🙂 I was so happy that I showed it to all. I opened the lid of the miniature post box and showed them that it was full till the brim. The toy owner too said to my dad “This kid took away whole of my business with his tiny whistles!”

Later I found out that the whole box of whistle had cost my neighbors only Rs. 20. And there were some 40-50 whistles in the box, which I sold each at a price of Rs. 2. And I didn’t even had to incur the initial cost of Rs. 20, so my clear profit was full Rs. 80-100!

That was my first ever business venture at an age of around 9. And I was so happy…

P.s.: And now I feel ridiculous at work.

The Pensive: Bad Manners…!

Once me and my mum were travelling in a bus. We were going home after a vacation at my uncle’s place. We were sitting behind a girl, probably 3-4 years elder than me (I was probably 5).

At school we had a subject called “Moral Science”, in which we were taught all good things and to not to do bad things using short stories… I loved stories and hence found that subject very interesting.

The girl in front of me started shouting all of a sudden. She wanted something. Her mother bought her what she wanted. It was some packed food item. I was looking at her keenly… she was eating that and throwing the waste so generated on the floor of the bus!

I told my mum “Look mamma! That girl is throwing waste on the floor! BAD MANNERS!”

My mother told me to wait and that we’ll shift our seat.

I continued looking at that girl and kept on thinking about her bad manners…

As we got another seat availability, we switched to that seat. As usual, I slept in my mum’s lap peacefully…

After sometime, the bus stopped and the people started to get down the bus. The girl tried to get up, but her frock belt were tied to the seat (it was a humble attempt to tie a knot). She fall hard back on her seat and started crying again. Her mother shouted at her “”What is wrong with you! Always shouting, always crying! Learn to behave! Learn your manners!”

All this while, I was peaking at the scene from my mum’s lap, which my mother observed. She smiled and asked me “What did you do to her?”

I said “She was doing bad manners. I tried to teach her good manners…” and I slept back in her lap with her patting me on my head..

I had always been a naughty one… 😉