Insecure Nahush: Sometimes Mature & Sometimes Foolish

By Sandip Singh

Some people are born with a vacillating mind and stay unsure of themselves; they remain silent even when the situation demands words from them. One of them is Nahush, the protagonist. He is dissatisfied with his job at a private insurance company. His family is also no solace to him, as his mother's tyranny and the continual bickering among his sisters-in-law keep him awake at night.

Insecure Nahush follows the protagonist from New Delhi to Mumbai, from an unsuitable old job to a potential new one. Will Nahush be able to marry the right girl as he navigates between the girl his mother rejects and the girl who rejects him?

• Language: English
• Publisher: One Point Six Technologies Pvt Ltd
• Release date: Nov 30, 2021
• ISBN: 9789390463626

Sandip Singh

SANDIP SINGH was born on April 7, 1980, in a small village in Haryana, and has lived in Chandigarh, Alwar, and Jabalpur. He moved to Delhi in 1993, where he spent the next two decades, including finishing his education. In 2011, he moved to Mumbai from New Delhi.He embraced Mumbai as his own, from the day he landed. He established and finalised his nascent aspiration to become a novelist here. He took almost five and a half years to finish his first novel since his responsibilities always took precedence. He immersed himself in the flow of writing whenever and wherever he had the opportunity.In the middle of his commitments, he is currently on his second voyage of writing another novel, with fresh excitement and drive. He has been residing in Mumbai with his wife Saroj and children Vardaan and Vaani.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

PRESSURES

Nahush was returning home after jogging, while listening to music with his earphones plugged to his ears. He was lonely; yet, the music was irritating him. His frustration disturbed him so much that he had forgotten to pull out the earphones, though he knew that the lyrics were now nothing but a loud noise. He stood on the pavement, waiting for the heavy continuous traffic to reduce for a few seconds so he could cross the road. Darkness had descended; the entire city was gripped by darkness with no traces of light either within him or without. Finally, after few seconds, the traffic reduced and he crossed the road. The drops of sweat were forming incessantly and dripping down his temples. He reached his street, where at the extreme end, was his home. The street was dead without a shadow of a soul. He walked to the gate of his home like a defeated person, with no one to communicate with. The cold war between his sisters-in-law, and their husband’s silence, was aggravating his exasperation, his mother playing the key role in this on-going drama and tension. He rang the bell; his father appeared, shuffling his feet, and opened the latch. He entered his home and came to the hall, it was very warm inside. His entire body was dripping in perspiration.

His father who was watching television asked Nahush, when he was untying his shoes, ‘Can you come early tomorrow?’

He lifted his face and replied, ‘Sure. Do you have some work?’

His father smiled a little and said, ‘Yes, some people are coming to see you.’

‘Oh again! I don’t understand why no one wants me?’ he sniggered at himself.

His mother walked into the room and nagged at him for jogging so late. He told her that he did not have enough time; he could only spare half an hour in the evening, for his body. He moved inside, placed his shoes inside the rack, and left for his room upstairs, until his mother called him for dinner. To rest his back, he lay down on the bed and closed his eyes, but the pressure of study of the UPSC exam did not afford him the luxury of even a short nap. He stared at the books lying on the table; his body needed rest, but the mind was restless, unceasingly punching him to get up and prepare for the exam. He yawned, a huge one! His feet were stiff and sore; he flexed them and stood up. He pulled a chair and sat down on it. He flipped through the pages, which he had been through in the library. He was sleepy; he couldn’t keep his eyelids open, but he still forced himself to study until his mother called him downstairs for dinner. He entered the kitchen, where his elder sister-in-law, Prabha was preparing dinner for her husband.

‘Brother, could you please wait! Your brother is having dinner,’ she said.

The drops of sweat were streaming down from all over her face, as there was no proper ventilation in the kitchen.

His mother entered the kitchen, adding to the cramped up space in the kitchen. ‘How many chapattis have you prepared?’ she asked, in an authoritative tone.

‘It’s okay, I will have dinner after some time,’ he said irritated, trying to smoothen out the imminent uneasiness.

‘Empty the vegetables into this bowl,’ his mother told him, as she pulled out the bowl from the utensils stand, which she passed to him, prodding her elder daughter-in-law, Prabha to work faster, as there were other people at home waiting for their turn.

‘I am not hungry,’ he said, irritated with his mother’s indulgent behaviour, ‘Let Father eat, he must be hungry, it is already 9pm.’ He moved into the hall.

‘We need change,’ said his father gloomily, protruding his lips.

‘Hmm…’ Nahush nodded, brooding, ‘The governments can be changed every five years, but can any change be brought about in the behaviour of these women? Is there any power that can do it?’

A few minutes later, his mother entered and told Nahush, ‘Go! Niketan has finished his dinner.’

She looked at her husband, and once again said in a loud voice, ‘Keep watching the news, you will experience no change in this country. Give me the remote control, my serials are about to start!’

His father, who was lying on one side, searched the remote control from behind him and handed it over to her, quietly.

Nahush stood up, and again headed to the kitchen, where his elder sister-in-law, Prabha who was still perspiring, certainly crying over her fate, had served the dish into his bowl, which had lost its warmth. Within few minutes, he finished eating five chapattis. At the corner of the kitchen counter, where she was rolling out the chapattis, she had served herself some food in a bowl on a plate, so that the moment she finished her chores, she could rush upstairs and have dinner. He wanted to eat some more, but looking at her involved nonchalantly in her chores and sometimes shaking her head in disgust; he decided to stop midway.

After few minutes, his younger sister-in-law, Shobhita opened her bedroom door; she slightly pushed aside the curtain and peered out to check if the kitchen was clear or not. When she found that nobody was there, her husband, Prateik and she, entered into it. Prateik was Nahush’s elder brother, but he was younger than Niketan. They finished their dinner within half an hour and they also disappeared into their room.

Now the kitchen light was switched off. The light of the room adjacent to Prateik’s room, which his parents occupied, was also switched off. The narrow corridor that was just a few inches, leading to the verandah and the hall was dark. On the first floor – the light of Niketan’s room was still switched on, but the door and the window were closed. The entire home, except the three rooms was in darkness. Nahush was on the terrace. He looked down through the grill vent of the roof; exactly below, it was another vent grill, which was on the first floor. No one could be seen; everybody was in their room. He stretched his back, moved towards the folding bed, and laid down on it. He was watching the sky, the infinite number of stars that were illuminating it, and not permitting the darkness to swallow the entire earth. He adjusted the spectacles resting on his forehead. There was a soothing peace in the sky, whipping up the uneasiness in his mind and helping it to fizzle out. Here, on the terrace he was lying alone, but not feeling secluded in the companionship of silence, darkness, the sky and the twinkling stars. He thought had it been under his power, he would have run away from this city, which was never his, as it had never completely accepted him. He stood up from the bed sluggishly, only to realise that it was already midnight. He looked around; no one was in sight on the other terraces, only a few bulbs glowed. He proceeded towards the stairs, walked down, and entered his room. All the books on the table were perfectly stacked. Only one book was lying open. The bed sheet was neatly spread. His backpack was placed on the corner of the table. They were his close companions with whom he shared most of his time. He latched the door from inside. Except for the sound of the wall clock, silently ticking into the night, not a sound could enter into the room.

The alarm on his mobile woke him up at 6.00am. He dragged himself out of bed lazily and freshened up in an hour. He brewed himself some tea in the kitchen. The blowing sound of the old air cooler fixed against the window of Prateik’s room disturbed the silence. His father was taking a shower. After a shower, his father lit up the incensed stick in the small temple, mounted on the wall. He brewed himself some sugar free tea and took out two slightly thick chapattis from the airtight utensil, which his mother had prepared last night. No one had the inclination to wake up early to prepare fresh breakfast for this aged man. When he came home from office, he always asked his wife – ‘where are the chapattis?’ as he was extremely famished. Only his wife took care of him, despite whatever other faults marred her nature. Nahush finished his cup of tea and went to the terrace to refresh himself. He took ten rounds of the terrace and returned to his chair. He meditated for three to four minutes and pulled out one of the book on Sociology. He found it really difficult to comprehend the large words and grueling concepts of the book. He was very relieved when he finished it, highlighting and underlining most of the words, somehow. Only few concepts were able to find a place in his grey cells, one called a brain, while all the others remained settled in the book, without any disturbance. He ever so often ruminated if his brief meditation was having any effect on his fragile memory. On the other hand, should he put a halt to it? Or should he practice more meditation? Unable to find a solution, he resolved that only a single reading attempt would not suffice; he needed a second or third re-read of the book to understand it. He looked at the watch on the wall; it showed the time 8 pm. He lifted his empty teacup, moved downstairs, and dumped the cup into the sink. His father was trying to squeeze out his bicycle from the narrow passage, as Niketan’s car that was parked in the verandah had left only a little space to move. Between the car and the wall of the hall, only a tiny path was left, through which his father had to juggle every morning to take out his bicycle. He had to be careful to ensure the he did not scratch the car, when he moved his bicycle through that narrow path; but he had become an expert in extricating it. He clasped the handle with his right hand and with his left hand; he pulled the latch and brought the cycle out on to the street.

Nahush was behind him. His father sat on the bicycle seat and looked back.

‘Try to come early in the evening,’ his father reminded him.

‘Yes, I will come, don’t worry,’ he assured his father.

He watched his father riding the bicycle away slowly, with his back slightly stooped. Everybody was sleeping inside, and outside an old man never retired from the life, even after retiring from his regular service. He wanted to see his father living a comfortable life. However, the reality was different, as he had to find another job, after retiring from the bank to support his son Prateik, who was jobless.

Nahush latched the door and came back into the house. He almost bumped into his elder sister-in-law, who was coming downstairs. She prepared tea for her husband, which she took to her room. She returned a short while later to the kitchen, to prepare breakfast and cook lunch for the office goers, Niketan and Nahush, and for her nine-year-old son, Vasu, who was in class four. Within an hour, she had finished preparing it. At the same time, his mother also woke up. She entered the hall, drew the curtains, and half closed the door; the windows were already closed, and she began practicing yoga – inhaling the same air that she was exhaling. The sound of her breathing while practicing yoga could be heard coming through the door.

As it was almost 8am, now it was time for him to leave for office. He lifted his bag kept on the table, unzipped it and adjusted the books in it. Today, he decided that he would start reading the new book and revise the old ones. He put on his trousers and a shirt, came downstairs, and made room for the tiffin box in his bag, already suffocating with books. He nibbled two chapattis and swung the bag onto his shoulder.

His younger sister-in-law Shobhita emerged out of the bedroom. Her opening of the door released the roaring snore of her husband for few seconds; she closed the door immediately and once again imprisoned the snores inside. His irritating snores never bothered her, as her sleep was deeper than his loud snores. Whenever she lay down on the bed, it only took her seconds to enter into a deep slumber and become unmindful of the din inside and outside.

He paced towards the gate – sounds of inhaling and exhaling of his mother were still piercing out of the door of the hall– opened it, stepped out, and closed the gate once again.

Today he was late, so he walked quickly towards the metro station. However, it was very refreshing in the morning, but the sweltering sunshine had assumed his place with no magnanimity towards rickshaw pullers, who were queued up for the passengers, at the crossroads. A rickshaw puller who recognised him broke the queue and got ready for him, slightly in the middle of the road. Nahush climbed into the rickshaw. The other rickshaw pullers kept staring at them. They must have been wondering if they were relatives, or if they knew each other since ages.

He was staring at the regressing road when his eyes fell on the broken pedal. Owing to that, he was unable to make a grip. His foot sometimes slipped from the pedal. May be to grapple with the heat, he had scanty clothes on his body – just a vest and shorts. The sun had darkened the colour of his body. He reached the station, paid him, and hastened his steps. The station was crowded, which would only increase if the train did not arrive on time. Here in the city, the word queuing up did not exist. Even if a queue existed, it was meant to be broken. The train entered the station with full speed, disturbing the stale air on the platform, throwing it outside. The door opened; at once, he entered and occupied the seat meant only for two passengers. The air conditioning had cooled the surrounding in the train, beating the hot climate outside. He took out the newspaper and the red pen from his bag, and moved straight to the editorial page. The forty-five minutes’ journey would suffice to finish it. He finished one article, when he heard the passenger beside him singing some melody. Her voice impressed him so much that, he was swept off his feet by her singing. She had a perfect pitch. Her voice was extremely low, but he could hear her plainly. From the corner of his eyes, he could see that she had a brown bag on her lap. Her left hand was holding two papers, with the musical notes; the tip of her right hand’s index finger was touching the tip of her thumb and the other three were slightly away from each other. It was the gesture of consciousness, to bring and enhance the concentration. While looking at that composition, she was culturing her voice. Although, Nahush was not a musical expert, but to him it appeared as if she had refined her vocal skills – perfect product for a playback singer. He decided that he would talk to this woman. He was always reluctant while talking to women. This was the first time, he felt confident. He mustered courage, turned his face towards her. She was a bespectacled girl, donned in a black suit, exuding fragrance. She had a softly rounded forehead, beautiful bulging cheeks, and a round chin.

‘Excuse me!’ he said with some hesitation, but snapped himself out of it immediately.

‘Yes,’ she turned to him and smiled.

He felt as if she was still singing. Her voice was like the waves of the sea – flowing constantly, soothingly and calmly with no disturbance.

‘The moment you started singing, I stopped reading, I was just engrossed in your voice. Did you learn music?’ he asked with ardour.

‘Yes, I am a student of B.A. Music in the North Campus; today are my practical’s,’ she chuckled. Her gums were slightly visible while speaking.

‘You will pass it. You have an alluring voice. I have been listening to you since the moment you started singing. I was only looking at the newspaper, but my mind was somewhere else.’

She acknowledged his words with a broad smile and both returned to their work. At Rajiv Chowk station, the girl alighted before saying good-bye to him and in few seconds, she vanished. After few minutes, he reached his station Mandi House. He was confident that today, he could deal with any unexpected events. He reached the public library, at around 9.30 am. He drew out some books from the bag and pushed it into the rack. Already short of time, he took his seat and immediately began studying, as he had to leave for office after an hour. He had inculcated the habit to begin reading a book fast and complete it as soon as possible. The second reading was meant for memorising the concepts. This was the first reading of the book. His weak point was that during the first reading, he could not remember even a single concept of what he had just studied. Perhaps, his biggest pitfall was that he thought about everything too deeply, and unnecessarily. He did not know what should be given priority, as he was trying to tackle too many problems at the same time.

He finished ten pages within an hour, highlighting the important lines. He tilted his left hand to look at the time; it was 10.30 am–time to leave for office. He pushed back the chair and stood up to leave. The library was midway between his office and home, so he used to come here early, study and leave for the office. He slipped the books into his bag and stepped out of the library, but found Rahul at the stairs of the library.

‘Hi Nahush! How are you?’ asked Rahul with a large smile that, displayed all his thirty-two teeth, with his wide grin.

‘Fine! You are late today.’

He was not willing to talk at length, as he was late for office. He kept shovelling his feet impatiently suggesting that he was unable to hang around much longer there.

‘Are you coming in the evening?’

‘No, I won’t be able to come, as some people are coming to see me in the evening,’ he said nonchalantly.

‘It’s good. Listen, tomorrow my brother’s sister-in-law is coming. If you say, then I could arrange a meeting with you. They are also looking for a groom. She is pursuing her Masters in Chemistry from Rajasthan University,’ said Rahul, in a serious tone, seldom seen on his face.

‘I will have to talk to my parents first, before I can confirm anything. If they agree, I will send you a message in the morning,’ he said, after pondering for few seconds.

‘Okay, send me a message. You leave; I think you are getting late.’

Both bid goodbyes. And he disappeared from the library.

He reached his office M/s Flow Private Insurance Company and placed his bag into the small almirah behind his chair. Without wasting time, he swiftly took out the transaction ledger from the almirah, and placed it before him to complete yesterday’s cash transactions with customers and in-house employees. He also took out the cheques to be handed over to insurance brokers and other various documents to be dealt with. For him, it was the most gruelling time as he always find himself entangled in the calculation. He knew that while writing the transaction ledger, he was prone to error and always made some mistakes. Therefore, to avoid any mistakes, he always used a pencil for writing. The morning was the perfect time for writing the transaction ledger, as then the mind is fresh, so the chances of mistakes are fewer. It took him two hours to complete the task. In the end, he checked whether the cash kept in the money chest was matching with the amount of the closing balance – he confirmed that it matched. After verifying and satisfying himself that he had done everything right, he pulled the drawer and placed the calculator, pencil, and eraser into it. Now it was the time to haul it and take it to his Manager, Ms Pratima Das–an aged short woman, with a fair complexion, and wrinkles all over her face. He lifted it – it weighed about five kilograms – he left the room and went upstairs to the third floor to the cabin of his Manager.

‘Good morning madam,’ he wished her anxiously, ‘here is the transaction ledger.’

‘’Sit down, let me have my tea,’ she uttered without looking at him.

He just wanted to leave this job and, if possible, this city, but he could not do that as he didn’t want to be a burden on his parents. She opened the transaction ledger, just flipped through the pages, and put the signatures just below the cash statements.

Until the time he remained in the office, he remained high strung.

It was only in the library that he felt content and found quiet.

He left the office at around 5 pm. While walking towards the metro station, he thought that time is always unpredictable. At all times, he chalked out a new time table to complete all the books at least once, but always one or the other job crowded his time table and he failed all the time. But he always tried to keep the loss to a minimum. He reached the station, and after few minutes, the train zoomed in and he boarded it, going towards Dwarka Sector Nine. As he was exhausted, he was unable to read anything. The only thought that kept running in his mind was – how would the girl’s parents be? What will they ask? And will he be able to answer anything? He tried a lot to avoid such thoughts, but he had no control over his mind and they kept tormenting him throughout the journey. He inserted his earphones into his ears; perhaps, music might take his mind somewhere else. Within an hour, he was at the destined station. He emerged out of it. He started walking on foot, as was his usual habit. He did not take a rickshaw while returning home. He always liked to walk amidst the trees that lined the street. Little whirling winds were reducing the effect of the hot weather. Leaving everything behind, he reached among the large homes, market, malls, and the hubbub. He reached his street, which was occupied by children, who played there every evening, disturbing the silence. He unlatched the gate and took a short sigh, while sitting down on the sofa, in the hall. He unplugged his earphones and pushed them into his bag. His mother, on hearing the creaking of the gate made her appearance.

She saw him sitting on the sofa, ‘You want some tea, as I am preparing it?’

‘Yes,’ he replied, without looking at her.

Both of his sisters-in-law were in their rooms, where they remained confined most of the time. He was mulling over – how his wife would be? Would she be like them, always confined to their bedrooms or would she be different?

‘Your father called just a few minutes ago, asking whether you have come or not,’ said his mother.

‘When are they coming?’ he asked casually.

‘At around 5.30 pm. I am going to bring some milk before they come,’ she said.

After saying this, she disappeared; Prateik’s son was trailing behind her. He also left for his room upstairs. He took off his shoes and threw them in the corner. He took out all the books from his bag and placed them on the table, and stared at them for a few seconds, before turning his face away – today too, he had failed in his target, so now he would have to chalk out a new timetable. He lay down on the bed to relax before presenting himself to the girl’s parents, which he often found irritating – You ask them a question, they give you an answer and they ask questions, you give them answers. Most of the times, there is silence; most of the times most of the answers are wrong. That too deliberately! During this autopsy, he always found himself trapped in a corner. He was never interested in such conversations, as it was his opinion that the girl and boy should be allowed to meet in the beginning itself, because they were the only ones, who could decide whether they are made for each other or not. Parents should only arrange the initial meeting; the girl and the boy should decide the rest.

His father rang the cycle bell, letting his mother know that he had arrived, so that she could open the gate. However, no one heard him, so he opened the gate himself. He entered the home, and refreshed himself. Today he didn’t take off his shoes and changed his clothes, which he normally did. He quickly entered the kitchen and briskly had his evening meal. As he came out of the kitchen, he received the call of the go-between.

‘Hello Mr Mohan! We are just reaching, we are on the street itself,’ said the intermediary.

‘Okay, I am at home,’ he said, loudly on the phone.

His wife entered home. He told her that they were just nearby and could knock the doorbell any time.

She knocked the door of Prateik’s bedroom. His wife, Shobhita, emerged out and touched the feet of her father-in-law.

‘Where is Prateik?’

‘He is outside for some work,’ she replied languidly.

‘Does he not know that some people are coming to see Nahush? Call him, at this moment all the family members should be present. I don’t know why he is out when there is some important work at home,’ said his mother crossly, ‘where are the people from the first floor?’

Shobhita went inside her room, called her husband, who replied that he was on the way, and would come at any time.

Nahush was upstairs. He got out of the room, washed his face, and combed his dishevelled hair. His elder sister-in-law Prabha also came out of her bedroom.

‘Have they arrived?’ she asked drowsily.

‘No,’ he said softly, protruding his lips.

‘There is some cream in the cabinet, use it on your face, I am sure you will be their first choice,’ she grinned.

He opened the cabinet, took out a cream, and used it on his face, thinking it might work today.

‘Now good,’ said Prabha while nodding, gesturing that he was looking good now.

Her eyes had swelled up a little bit because of sleep; she needed three or four splashes of water to wake up; he took two steps aside and made some space for her.

The father of the girl along with his son and the go-between appeared, at front of the gate. Nahush’s father greeted them. His father took them into the hall. Immediately, Shobhita served them with water. A rare incident – Prabha and Shobhita –together in the kitchen. One was preparing tea and the other was preparing the tray with biscuits and spicy mixtures, but no one was talking, except the utensils. The cups of tea were arranged on the tray. His mother and Prabha took the trays into the hall and placed them on the table. Nahush was standing in front of the kitchen watching all the movements. His mother directed him to go. Initially he hesitated, but he lifted his face and moved his steps towards the hall. When he entered the hall, it was in the grip of silence. Nahush’s father was sitting on the bed on his left side. Two persons from the girls’ side – father and his son – were sitting in front of him. The go-between was on his right side. His brother, Prateik, was sitting just beside him. The father broke the silence by offering tea and biscuits.

‘The tea is getting cold, please have it,’ said his father.

Don’t know how, but Nahush had already understood that this relationship was not going to make any headway. From their body language, he could somewhere infer that they were not going to manage any relationship with his family.

‘‘Mr Mohan, you were in the bank and now you have been working as a security manager, that’s nothing new. I resigned from the Five Star Hotel as an Accounts Manager, and now I have my own property business. Life is all about learning, so I never stopped anywhere,’ said the girl’s father boastfully.

‘Yes, you are right. But whatever came my way I accepted without any qualms, as I needed it at that time’, said his father, in a matter of fact way.

The girl’s father turned to Prateik, ‘Son, what do you do?’

‘Right now I am doing nothing. I was working in the Airport, but I have left that job. Now I am searching for a better job.’ Prateik also started feeling tense, lest he should throw any other question at him. He had the answers to every question of his father, mother, brother, and wife, but not for the outsiders. So, he did not answer in detail – only short and concise answers.

‘Mr Mohan, where does your elder son work?’ he threw another question.

‘He is an Architect,’ replied his father, once again, politely.

The bespectacled son sat next to the girl’s father. He was prepared with his own list of questions, which he intended to hurl at Nahush. He rose and sat on the corner of the sofa near Nahush. If there were some other sitting arrangement near Nahush to sit down on, he would have sat on that, leaving the sofa. Nahush was also sitting on the corner of the other sofa – they were barely a foot apart. He took out a sheet of paper from his shirt pocket and asked his father for a pen.

‘Hello Nahush!’ he said, looking serious, as if to test his knowledge.

‘Hi !’ replied Nahush, looking into his eyes. He was confused, about what he was going to ask. Already irritated with his father, he just wanted to stand up and disappear.

‘Where do you work?’ asked the girl’s brother, with a paper in his left hand and a pen in his right hand, to make notes of his replies.

‘In a Private Insurance Company,’ he replied.

‘As?’

‘As an Accountant.’

‘What is your salary?’

‘Eighteen thousand rupees.’

‘Where is your office’?

‘Near Pragati Maidan.’

He looked down, jotted something down on the paper, thought about something, and lifted his face and then again asked another question.

‘What is your qualification?’

‘B.Com.’

‘And from where did you do your graduation?’

‘Delhi University.’

‘Which college?’

He always avoided replying to this question anywhere and if it were in public, he would die of shame. But here, he could not do anything; he had to reply and that also in public.

‘From Distance Education.’

‘Why from Distance Education?’

‘I scored low marks.’

‘How much?’

‘Forty-five per cent.’

‘Why did you score low marks?’

He was getting exasperated, but he could not do anything. At one moment, he was about to stand up, but he calmed himself down because if he is an underperformer then only he was responsible. He must be prepared for such insults.

‘I could not prepare better.’

Prateik and his father were listening to all this. Both had their faces down. Prateik was pleased that such questions were not hurled at him; otherwise, his performance would have stunned everybody.

He looked down and again jotted something down – perhaps, Nahush’s great academic achievements. The boy looked at his father, nodded his head, pointing to him that, his mission had ended successfully and now it’s your turn to take over.

The girl’s father who was not short of words once again made his presence felt.

‘My daughter has done her Masters in English and has a job in a very big company. She is willing to study more. My son also is a software engineer in WIPRO Company. We are a very good family and in the