Wordzzle maxi-week 120

'I wish I were elsewhere,' thought Krishna with a sigh, as he sat perspiring in the hot living room which was crowded with people. 'I could be practising my latest song, strumming my guitar...'

"What band did you say you were in, dear?" enquired the lady opposite him in a kindly tone. Everyone immediately stopped their flow of small talk and looked at him.

"The Green Fireflies, auntie," he said in a proud tone. He loved that band of his. He continued, enthused, "We're really coming up now. We're playing at Charcoal hall this Sunday. You really should come and check us out."

He could see two aunties in the corner of his eye shooting a glance at each other. Were they looking down on his hobby? Well, they'd be even more shocked if he announced that he meant to take it up as his full-time profession, no matter what his family said. He wasn't deterred by their threats and hints that he wouldn't get married if he continued like this. Marriage wasn't high on his list of things to do. 'Well, atleast till now,' he thought, sneaking a glance at the girl sitting at the opposite end of the room.

He could see she was very pretty. And apparently very shy. She didn't raise her eyes from her floor all the time she was in the room. Krishna wasn't used to girls who behaved like that, like they were in the 19th century instead of the 21st. Yet, he believed that if they were only left alone they would get along well together. 'Instead of which I'm sitting with what looks like every family member she ever has, and trying to convince them that I'm the right man to entrust their darling girl with.' Not that he was really trying anything of that sort.

He glanced at the girl again. He imagined them being left alone. What would he tell her? He smiled as he imagined whipping out a guitar from somewhere, and singing, as Rohan had suggested. "She'll love 'dark chocolate', man. Who wouldn't? That's our best song, dude."

Krishna hummed the tune under his breath. That was their best song, but his favourite was 'Pink Lemonade'. It was a curious song to be composed by a guy band. It was thought of when they'd attended a competition where certain parameters were set up to make it more fun. All the guys were asked to compose a song with the word 'pink' appearing every paragraph. The Green Fireflies had certainly risen to the challenge admirably. Krishna had helped rather a lot with this song, which explained why it was rather a favourite of his. They'd won the competition, which only made him like it all the more.

He hardly had anything to do during the rest of the visit. He listened politely to some elderly relative on the girl's side who talked to him at length about his digestive system and his gastric juices. He listened to another uncle, who apparently owned a large store in the city, ranting bitterly against shop-lifting.

One lanky young lad, apparently a cousin, with a would-be-cool mussed-up hairdo, even asked him for the directions to Charcoal hall so he could attend their concert on Sunday. "It's right opposite the traffic-light," Krishna added, after telling him the rest of the directions. "You might want to get the tickets pretty early. We're not exactly sold out, but we'll probably be getting there soon." he said with a complete lack of modesty. Where his band was concerned, he was more boastful than a mother of her son, though, to be fair, he had more justification than many mothers usually do have.

At the very end of the visit, his mother said she would inform her prospective in-laws of Krishna's decision before the next day. "I'm pretty sure we'll have good news to tell you," she added with a bright smile and a glance at her son. "I'll talk to you soon."

As they got into the car, Krishna whispered in an argumentative tone, "What did you tell that for? What if it's a no?"

His mother spoke in a sharp tone. "Why will it be a no? She's a nice girl: you'll be a fool if having come this far, you just back out for no obvious reason. What is wrong with her that you..."

"I meant what if she says no, ma"

His mother just threw him a look that plainly said that that would never happen. She however said, "Well, if you continue with your band nonsense, they might say no. You can keep your music as a hobby, but if you adopt it as a profession which girl will marry you? You must really think of your future, Krishna. Are you listening to me?" This was due to the fact that he'd just increased the volume of the radio and leant back on the sofa with a sigh. 'Here we go again.'

"Yes amma, I am. I'm..." They swerved rather sharply to avoid a dump-truck approaching from the opposite direction; he continued after his mother had finished ranting about ''drivers these days''. "I'm keeping my options open, trust me."

"Well, what should I tell these people if they enquire about your decision? They think your band is merely a harmless hobby. When should I tell them it's not?"

Krishna stared out of the window and sighed again. Inadvertently the pretty, shy girl's face was before him. What should he choose? His band or a girl he'd just met? It was not an easy decision to make.

Ten years later, he faced the same kind of decision as he stood in the adoption centre, with his wife by his side, and gazed at two lovable children as they played with the other kids. Which one should he choose, the boy or the girl? He and his wife - still very much like the shy, pretty bride of eight years ago - had tried for years for children, with no avail. They'd finally decided to adopt. His wife had been quite captivated by the young girl as soon as she'd seen her, and he himself had taken to the engaging boy. Whom should they adopt?

Krishna thought of his decision of ten years ago, and smiled. He was now a member of one of the most famous bands in the country, earning quite substantial royalties. There was also quite a little packet put away for him to retire in comfort. Sometimes, there was no need to choose between two alternatives. Both could be taken - and made a success of.

He stepped up to the adoption authority and said, with a smile, "I'd like to adopt both of them."

wordzzle midi-week 120

"No, they aren't good for your digestive system" said Rob in what he hoped was a firm voice, as he took the tin of chocolate away. "You really have to take care of your health, father, you know you're not as strong as you once were."

His father, from where he lay reclining in his deck-chair, grinned up at him. "You can trust your old father to take care of himself, can't you? Remember I was old when you were a chit of a boy. So hand me over that tin and don't become argumentative about it."

"You weren't old, father. You were 40, at the prime of your life. And now you're nearly 70. You can't just eat whatever takes your fancy" said Rob, still trying to maintain his sharp tone. Unfortunately, the manner which served him so well at his office failed to cut ice here. Yet when Rob felt he was in the right he would become stubborn over it, and no one could make him give way. A few minutes later the conflict still remained unresolved. The two men thrashed out their opinions thoroughly, though neither allowed their voice to rise, or the volume to go up.

Rob knew his father enjoyed this kind of harmless banter and conflict of opinions. Whenever his options for amusing himself through the TV or some book were limited he would wander around the house seeking someone he could cross swords (figuratively) with. He didn't usually settle for Rob because Rob wasn't a good debater - he mostly repeated his same arguments with increasing force. Still, one has to take what one gets, thought his father, as he prepared all his objections to being fussed around like some dying invalid. As a matter of fact, no one fussed over him, realising the complete futility and the superfluity of it. Rob's father hadn't the least need to be fussed over, but, Rob thought severely, someone had to interfere if he was going to ruin his health by gorging on chocolates all day through.

Rob was defending his point with single-minded tenacity, exasperating his father no end, who liked to hear some new points thrown up, but at that moment Rob's son, a lovable, lively young lad ambled up and provided a welcome distraction. He demanded of his grandfather if he hadn't noticed the fireflies flying around in the garden. It was a game between them to go into the garden every evening and try and count the fireflies. There were plenty of them, and they never agreed on the number. Still, it was fun counting and then arguing about it later on. Rob hailed with relief the break-up of the argument and disappeared into the house, carrying the tin of chocolate with him. He wondered where he could dump it so his father wouldn't find it again.

Dump - of course! Half an hour later Rob stood waving the dump truck off, inside which a happy boy was sitting clutching a huge tin of chocolates. He was the son of the truck owner, and he always came on the expedition to Rob's house because he knew there was always some little thing for him there. The truck stopped at the traffic-light and the urchin opened the tin and nibbled on a piece of delightful confectionery. He smiled, content, his eyes alight under his charcoal black hair.

Rob went back to the garden, alike content. His father and his son were sitting there in the dusk, laughing uproariously and earnestly engaged in counting the fireflies. His wife brought him a cup of steaming tea , freshly brewed, from the kitchen. He could smell it from where he stood. The always serious, grave Rob suddenly smiled and his eyes sparkled with unutterable happiness. He felt glad for his life as he stood drinking in the scene and somehow, that one moment stayed in his mind for all the rest of his life, though he didn't know the importance of it then. He merely commented to his wife that those people who said life was a vale of tears didn't know what they were talking about. And, after reflection, she had to admit he was right.

Wordzzle mini-week 120

Leo gazed, frightened, into the big man's face. He was so big, and so red too. He was currently shouting all manner of dire threats, most of it unintelligible to Leo. There was no coherent thought in his head; he stared at the huge man in front of him and wished someone would rescue him.

His wish was miraculously answered. Another man, also big, but possessing a nice, kind voice, now stepped forward from the side pavement where he'd been standing, and spoke firmly to the apoplectic man who'd been giving Leo his dressing-down. Leo looked up at the tall man's face - he was so tall, much taller than the other man, and not fat at all. His face smiled down at Leo's kindly. After this, he held out his hand to Leo, and said, "Hi there, little fella. What's your name?"

"Leo" said Leo timorously.

"Well, Leo, do you want to go get some lemonade?"

"Yes, please". Leo was starting to lose some of his fear. He could even bear to look straight at the fat man's face as he walked away with his rescuer. The man was muttering something darkly again. Leo wondered what shoplifting was and debated about asking the kind man beside him. Before he could open his mouth to do so, however, they'd reached the huge, extremely cold shop which sold all manner of drinks. Leo loved this place, he'd come here only once before. He ascended his seat shyly and could hardly answer when the waiter kindly asked him what he wanted to drink. However, the kind man answered for him, ordering two lemonades. He then sat back and regarded Leo a little thoughtfully.

"Where are you from, Leo?", he asked after he'd regarded Leo for a while.

Leo remembered the mother from his dorm, saying he should always respond to adults politely and with respect. "One of them might adopt you, Leo," she'd said. Leo had decided that he didn't like that word - adoption. Now as he looked at that kind man in front of him, he thought that being adopted wouldn't be a bad thing, even if he had to leave all his friends behind.

"I'm from Goodman's Orphanage," he responded with alacrity. He'd been taught that very well, so if he ever got lost he could be restored. Leo had a knack for getting lost very easily, despite all efforts by the Mothers in the orphanage to keep him safe. He'd sometimes wander into nearby shops whenever they were taken to town for a treat. The dazzling windows attracted him. He'd pick up some stuff and examine them as well, and put them in his pocket absent-mindedly without paying attention. Usually he would remember to take them out, but this time he'd ambled out with an article still in his pocket, and a loud, shrill alarm had rung out, and that big, fat man had come and snatched away the product and started shouting at him. He'd been bewildered and scared then, but he was neither now.

"Did you run away from there?"

"No, I didn't, I got lost," said Leo, though he felt it would have been more adventurous to have actually run away than merely tagging behind his group and getting mixed up in the crowd." In fact," he added in a burst of confidence "I don't know my way one mile from the parameters of the place!"

This important-sounding phrase had been borrowed from one of Leo's senior Brothers. He thought it sounded very fine. The kind man smiled. "Perimeters, you mean," he said, laughing gently.

Leo nodded, though he didn't have the faintest idea of the meanings of or the difference between either word. His fright at the shop being quite forgotten, Leo asked the question uppermost in his mind, over sips of lemonade, gazing a little shyly at the kind man "Are you going to adopt me?"

The man didn't reply at first, he seemed to be thinking of something else, though he was staring directly at Leo. "Why not?" said Lucas Roxton, the young millionaire, softly. "After all, I have everything in the world but that I want most." Leo glanced at his face and saw the decision there. A smile overspread and he abandoned his lemonade to go over to the kind man. "Thank you, daddy!"