"Baby, come for breakfast. Your milk is getting
cold," called Bhaiya, my elder brother.
I quickly put on my slippers, picked up my
favourite doll, Beeta, and rushed out into the
verandah. It was a beautiful day. The morning
air was most refreshing. "Ah, how lovely!" I said
aloud, taking a deep breath. I ran across the
verandah, with Beeta tucked under my arm.
While I gulped down the milk, I heard Papa
calling out to the driver.
"Papa is still here, Bhaiya. He hasn't gone to
the clinic, today," I said overwhelmed with joy.
Being engrossed in a magazine, Bhaiya did
not reply, but I could see Papa talking to someone
in his room, which was opposite the dining hall
facing the verandah.
"Papa! Papa! I don't have to go to school, it's a
holiday. Do you have a holiday, too? Look, Beeta
has got fever," I said, all in one breath.
"No, my dear child, I don't have a holiday today.
You go and play while I talk to Mr. Singh.
He is very ill. I'll ask the compounder to give
your doll some medicine," Papa said lovingly.
It was quite unusual to find my father at home
at that time. Normally he was in his clinic before
I woke up. So I was very happy. My father wiped
his spectacles with the kerchief as he listened to
his patient carefully.
I was on the balcony when I heard, "Baby!
Baby! Come here, see this." It was my brother
from the verandah. He had spread himself on an
easy chair and our dog, Tom, was dancing round
on his hind legs. I burst out laughing.
"Papa will give medicine to Beeta," I said,
showing off.
"And I'll ask Papa to give some medicine to his
darling daughter, because. . . .because she laughs
and laughs," said Bhaiya, tickling me and sending
me into fits of laughter. Being the youngest child
in the family I received everyone's attention and
affection. Papa of course, was the most
affectionate.
I ran from one end of the verandah to the other
and then onto the balcony, staying close to Papa's
room to attract his attention while I played. I
swung on the curtain, thumped on the door, tapped
on the table, pulled and pushed the chair.
"Look, Bhaiya, what a variety of sounds they
make," I said, pulling the chair, then leaping up
and rapping on the door, clapping my hands,
jumping all the while.
"Don't," pleaded Bhaiya, not taking his eyes off
the book in his hand.
Racing back to the window of Papa's room, I
saw him still busy with the patient. I loved to see
him there before me, while I played. 'He must
be liking it, too,' I thought, 'to see me play around
in his room.'
I dragged a chair and climbed onto the table.
This at last drew Papa's attention.
"Baby, be careful, you'll fall down," he said
tenderly.
"Look, Papa, I am taller than everyone," I grinned
from ear to ear making my eyes disappear.
All one could see was a set of white teeth and
chubby cheeks.
Both Mr. Singh and Papa smiled. Papa did not
look convinced. So I said again raising my hands
above my head. "Papa I'm a big girl, now."
He nodded with a smile and continued talking
to the patient.
I touched all that I could reach with my hands
till I got to the black switch. 'No, you should not
touch it.' I was imagining what my mother would
have said.
'If you touch it, you'll get hurt,' Bhaiya had
told me once. This was a 'forbidden' article for
me, but how attractive it looked — black against
the light blue wall. Unable to resist the temptation
to touch it, I pressed the switch and the light
came on. I immediately switched it off. I was
scared, I looked at Papa with large anxious eyes,
but he was busy writing. He did not see me. I
looked at Papa again and then at the switch which
begged my hands to touch it again.
'I'll do it just once more, okay?' I said softly to
myself. I repeated the mischief once more and
was unable to stop myself from doing it again and
again. I seemed to have disturbed Papa who was
concentrating on the patient's problem. Without
looking up from the book, he said in a serious
voice, "Don't do that, you might get a shock."
The klick-klack of the switch and the glowing
bulb fascinated me, "Baby, come here, let Papa
do his work," called my brother.
I ignored everybody. This was the most fascinating
game for me at the moment.
TIow fantastic! I press — the light is on, I push
— the light goes off', I muttered.
The patient, obviously, had some serious problem.
My father sat with four books open in front
of him. My running around had certainly disturbed
him. Completely exasperated, he put down his
pen and spectacles and shouted at me, "You're not
listening to me. GET DOWN FROM THERE!"
His loud voice broke my trance. I gaped
at him wide-eyed. He fixed his gaze on me, expecting
to be obeyed instantly. I was shocked at
being scolded so loudly by him — scolded by
Papa. Papa, a very soft spoken person, who was
known never to raise his voice, had SHOUTED
in anger at his darling daughter. I was very angry
with him.
I jumped down from the table with a loud thud
and raced up and down the balcony. My breath
quickened, my face went red with anger, and my
eyes felt hot with unshed tears. Throwing my
hands about, I raced up and down wanting to
destroy everything that came in my way.
Hearing the commotion Bhaiya came out.
"What is it?" he asked. My fury found a ready
victim and I ran towards him and pushed him. I
felt like bursting into tears. I rushed and pulled
at the curtain in Papa's room, which came down
with the force. I saw Papa talking to the patient
with his usual patience.
How unthoughtful of him! He is not a bit
bothered about my being so angry with him. 1
was fuming all the more.
I went back into the room, stamping my feet
noisily in anger. Standing close to Papa, I raged
vehemently, "Why couldn't you say it softly?
Why did you speak so loudly to me?"
The next moment I came out on the balcony
and stood beside the money-plant pot. My eyes
were now full of tears. I plucked a leaf and shredded
it to pieces. The sound of a chair being pushed
in Papa's room reached my ears and then I heard
his footsteps coming closer to me. I tried to run
away in annoyance, but Papa caught me. He pulled
my face towards his and picked me up. Tears
came rolling down my plump cheeks. He patted
my head lovingly and wiped my tears.
"Oh, you big cat!" said Papa, ruffling my hair.
This affectionate gesture melted my wrath. A
moment later I was once again happy playing
round the house.
cold," called Bhaiya, my elder brother.
I quickly put on my slippers, picked up my
favourite doll, Beeta, and rushed out into the
verandah. It was a beautiful day. The morning
air was most refreshing. "Ah, how lovely!" I said
aloud, taking a deep breath. I ran across the
verandah, with Beeta tucked under my arm.
While I gulped down the milk, I heard Papa
calling out to the driver.
"Papa is still here, Bhaiya. He hasn't gone to
the clinic, today," I said overwhelmed with joy.
Being engrossed in a magazine, Bhaiya did
not reply, but I could see Papa talking to someone
in his room, which was opposite the dining hall
facing the verandah.
"Papa! Papa! I don't have to go to school, it's a
holiday. Do you have a holiday, too? Look, Beeta
has got fever," I said, all in one breath.
"No, my dear child, I don't have a holiday today.
You go and play while I talk to Mr. Singh.
He is very ill. I'll ask the compounder to give
your doll some medicine," Papa said lovingly.
It was quite unusual to find my father at home
at that time. Normally he was in his clinic before
I woke up. So I was very happy. My father wiped
his spectacles with the kerchief as he listened to
his patient carefully.
I was on the balcony when I heard, "Baby!
Baby! Come here, see this." It was my brother
from the verandah. He had spread himself on an
easy chair and our dog, Tom, was dancing round
on his hind legs. I burst out laughing.
"Papa will give medicine to Beeta," I said,
showing off.
"And I'll ask Papa to give some medicine to his
darling daughter, because. . . .because she laughs
and laughs," said Bhaiya, tickling me and sending
me into fits of laughter. Being the youngest child
in the family I received everyone's attention and
affection. Papa of course, was the most
affectionate.
I ran from one end of the verandah to the other
and then onto the balcony, staying close to Papa's
room to attract his attention while I played. I
swung on the curtain, thumped on the door, tapped
on the table, pulled and pushed the chair.
"Look, Bhaiya, what a variety of sounds they
make," I said, pulling the chair, then leaping up
and rapping on the door, clapping my hands,
jumping all the while.
"Don't," pleaded Bhaiya, not taking his eyes off
the book in his hand.
Racing back to the window of Papa's room, I
saw him still busy with the patient. I loved to see
him there before me, while I played. 'He must
be liking it, too,' I thought, 'to see me play around
in his room.'
I dragged a chair and climbed onto the table.
This at last drew Papa's attention.
"Baby, be careful, you'll fall down," he said
tenderly.
"Look, Papa, I am taller than everyone," I grinned
from ear to ear making my eyes disappear.
All one could see was a set of white teeth and
chubby cheeks.
Both Mr. Singh and Papa smiled. Papa did not
look convinced. So I said again raising my hands
above my head. "Papa I'm a big girl, now."
He nodded with a smile and continued talking
to the patient.
I touched all that I could reach with my hands
till I got to the black switch. 'No, you should not
touch it.' I was imagining what my mother would
have said.
'If you touch it, you'll get hurt,' Bhaiya had
told me once. This was a 'forbidden' article for
me, but how attractive it looked — black against
the light blue wall. Unable to resist the temptation
to touch it, I pressed the switch and the light
came on. I immediately switched it off. I was
scared, I looked at Papa with large anxious eyes,
but he was busy writing. He did not see me. I
looked at Papa again and then at the switch which
begged my hands to touch it again.
'I'll do it just once more, okay?' I said softly to
myself. I repeated the mischief once more and
was unable to stop myself from doing it again and
again. I seemed to have disturbed Papa who was
concentrating on the patient's problem. Without
looking up from the book, he said in a serious
voice, "Don't do that, you might get a shock."
The klick-klack of the switch and the glowing
bulb fascinated me, "Baby, come here, let Papa
do his work," called my brother.
I ignored everybody. This was the most fascinating
game for me at the moment.
TIow fantastic! I press — the light is on, I push
— the light goes off', I muttered.
The patient, obviously, had some serious problem.
My father sat with four books open in front
of him. My running around had certainly disturbed
him. Completely exasperated, he put down his
pen and spectacles and shouted at me, "You're not
listening to me. GET DOWN FROM THERE!"
His loud voice broke my trance. I gaped
at him wide-eyed. He fixed his gaze on me, expecting
to be obeyed instantly. I was shocked at
being scolded so loudly by him — scolded by
Papa. Papa, a very soft spoken person, who was
known never to raise his voice, had SHOUTED
in anger at his darling daughter. I was very angry
with him.
I jumped down from the table with a loud thud
and raced up and down the balcony. My breath
quickened, my face went red with anger, and my
eyes felt hot with unshed tears. Throwing my
hands about, I raced up and down wanting to
destroy everything that came in my way.
Hearing the commotion Bhaiya came out.
"What is it?" he asked. My fury found a ready
victim and I ran towards him and pushed him. I
felt like bursting into tears. I rushed and pulled
at the curtain in Papa's room, which came down
with the force. I saw Papa talking to the patient
with his usual patience.
How unthoughtful of him! He is not a bit
bothered about my being so angry with him. 1
was fuming all the more.
I went back into the room, stamping my feet
noisily in anger. Standing close to Papa, I raged
vehemently, "Why couldn't you say it softly?
Why did you speak so loudly to me?"
The next moment I came out on the balcony
and stood beside the money-plant pot. My eyes
were now full of tears. I plucked a leaf and shredded
it to pieces. The sound of a chair being pushed
in Papa's room reached my ears and then I heard
his footsteps coming closer to me. I tried to run
away in annoyance, but Papa caught me. He pulled
my face towards his and picked me up. Tears
came rolling down my plump cheeks. He patted
my head lovingly and wiped my tears.
"Oh, you big cat!" said Papa, ruffling my hair.
This affectionate gesture melted my wrath. A
moment later I was once again happy playing
round the house.
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