KINLEY - KITNA CHAIN HOTA HAI NA SACHCHAI MEIN

¸¸.•*¨*•♫♪¸¸.•*¨*•♫♪¸¸ Childhood and mischief? Ah! They go together! Atleast, in my case! When I look back at my childhood days, I squirm at the amount of mischief I used to do. What a nightmare, I must have been to my parents. With my elder sister too, doubly mischievous, they had two little monsters in their home, always up to pranks of all kinds, making the house noisy and a crazy one. From breaking precious items ( accidental or intentional ), throwing away food if we didn’t like the taste ( ah..my poor mom, who cooked it ), lying if we wanted to go to friend’s place for party, stealing money from our dad’s pocket or mom’s purse, buying comics with our tuition fees, and fighting like cats and dogs pulling each other’s hairs ~ that our neighbours used to come to enquire what happened. Ah…there are so many of those now embarrassing incidents. But one incident beats them all. What a mastermind plan I had to make, to execute it. And boy, was it easy to tell truth, and accept all those nonsense we did? Err...no! But somehow it proved to be the best solution in the end... Read on :-) So, there was this cricket One Day match coming up in my city. Well, Guwahati is a small place that doesn’t see much of such big events especially all those years ago – it was a once in a blue-moon kinda event and everyone was excited. I showed my eagerness too, to watch the match and expressed my desire to my parents. They, of course, refused point blank to shell out any money for the tickets. And they disliked the company I had, for friends, so were very strict about it. Moreover, my exams were coming too, so ‘no’ meant a firm No! I was heart-broken and didn’t know how to go about it. My friends' parents weren’t that strict, so they obtained permission easily. Only I was the one sulking away. I needed a master-plan if I wanted to attend this match, and had to think of something fast. The thought of seeing my favourite cricket stars 'up-close' was tempting me no end. And it would be my first experience too, of seeing a 'live' match from the grounds itself. Else, I had seen only on Television so far. Time was ticking, and my friends asked me impatiently if I was going or not, to give a final answer. We’d all be purchasing tickets together, so they wanted to confirm my ‘nod of agreement’ too. But I was too hesitant. I didn’t have a single penny in my pocket nor had my parents given me a green signal. “You can’t take forever to give a confirmed answer, ND. Tell us by tomorrow, else, we’ll have to strike out your name,” my friend declared. I didn’t know what to answer. That night I lay sleepless. I was restless. I thought of giving up but my heart wouldn’t stop craving. It was a battle of the mind and heart. The match-day was fast approaching; infact, it was hardly a few days away. Everyone in the small city was talking about the upcoming event everyday – on local news ( print as well as electronic ); giant posters were hung everywhere announcing the event. Seeing all the euphoria built up, I couldn’t resist myself. As I lay in bed, that night, I heard one of my parents going to the bathroom. I knew, I had to do it right then – yeah, steal! I had no other option left. I crept near my parent’s room and saw that it was father who had gone to the loo. My mother was fast asleep; her face turned the other side. I saw my father’s coat hanging by the closet-door and quickly walked towards it. I knew he kept cash in the inside pocket of his coat, so quickly slid my hand in and took out whatever I could grab. I heard the flush, so didn’t stop to count as my father was done and returning to the room. I heaved a huge sigh of relief that I made it to my room in time, without getting caught. The next day of course, I handed the money ( I had actually grabbed less than the required amount ) with my friend paying some of the remaining balance, thus, helping me out. My father didn’t seem to notice the missing notes from his pocket, however, my conscience had to bear a huge load every time I saw him; and I had to keep my face straight with lots of effort so as not to look guilty. I thought of telling my mother, but decided to wait till the match was over. I had a habit of confessing to her all the silly things that I did. She'd be upset at first, but would forgive easily and would in her own time narrate the incidents to my father, ensuring, I wasn't blasted upon with his wrath. ¸¸.•*¨*•♫♪¸¸.•*¨*•♫♪¸¸ The match-day finally came. But, it was on a Sunday. What excuse do I make now? As I finished breakfast, my father called me to his side. I got alert instantly – was I caught? But thank heavens it wasn’t so, as the next sentence he said was a surprising one – that, I could watch the match on TV since it was being held in our city. He’d be watching the game too. For him it was a big concession to make, to allow me to watch, with my exams near; whereas inside, I was chuckling at what I had already done. With a very serious face, I told him that I wasn’t interested in the match, but instead, would prefer to go to my friend’s place to study Maths, if he’d give me the permission. His daughter was asking his permission to study? What could be more music to his ears, than this? He instantly agreed, though, he watched narrowly as I stepped out of my house wearing my newest dress that day – which I never did, while going to my friend’s place. We reached the stadium just in time and I was totally absorbed in the frenzy of the place, that day. The place was bustling with energy, with almost half the city thronging the stadium. We grabbed our Pop-corns, Chips, Cokes & Kinley mineral water bottles and sat in the gallery; while our heart-throb cricketers flung into action in the field. We screamed with every run scored, booed at every wicket fall, drooled at the score-board every time it got updated, chewed our finger-nails nervously at every third-umpire’s call, got excited like crazy when any of the players came near our gallery to fetch the ball or sign autographs. With so much happening, we didn’t realize at all, that all the TV cameras were zooming at us gleeful bunch of girls every now and then ~ until one of my friends spotted the huge screen and shouted – “Hey, look that’s us on the screen. We’re on TV. We're phaaaaamous!” I instantly remembered that my father would be watching the TV too. Cold sweat broke out. Oh damn! I'm done now! Maybe, I would be grounded forever as a punishment. Aaargh, whatever…it was too late now to do anything. If he reprimanded me for lying to him, I’d have to face the consequence, I thought. I enjoyed rest of the game with the nightmarish thoughts of rebuke that awaited me back at home, clouding my mind. When I returned home late in the afternoon, my father was standing near the door. I was all ready to face his thrashing. What else could I do?! Sigh. “Did you manage to get autograph of Sachin?” His question made me look up in wonder. At first I thought, he was being sarcastic. But he had a crooked smile playing in his face, instead. “We saw you on TV. Your relatives have been calling up too; they have all seen you on TV. So, we thought, you must’ve collected the autographs too, didn't you?” I knew, he wasn’t happy with my telling lies to him earlier, but he wasn’t that furious either. I shook my head, because I couldn’t get any autograph, with such a huge mob surrounding the players and also the bouncers and security everywhere. “Well, next time at least get one then, when you go to watch a match for real, ND! What will we show our relatives if they ask – that, ND watched the cricket-match from the ground itself, but couldn’t even manage to get an autograph from her favourite player!” His last sentence made me laugh out. Because, I finally knew for sure that he wasn’t angry with me. Maybe, he accepted that I was bit of a rebel. Anyways, I guessed it was okay then to confess to him, how I took the notes from his pockets to finance my tickets. And yes, he didn’t get angry as I had expected. Infact, he said much to my surprise, that he’d accompany me too the next time such a big match happened in the city. I think he wanted to come on TV too. Well, so, maybe it’s better to tell the truth after all ~ kitna chain hota hai na sachchai mein, right? ;-) ¸¸.•*¨*•♫♪¸¸.•*¨*•♫♪¸¸

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( Images - IB )Sometimes when telling the truth could get us into trouble, we tend to lie or omit details to avoid it. Although this seems like a great temporary solution, it weighs on our conscience. Telling the truth is the right thing to do. Have you tried telling the truth too?
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