lage raho munnabhai :)

Some people adore Gandhi. His only clothing being simplicity. His weapon being non violence. His thirst for peace. His devoted efforts to maintain umbilical cord relationship between Hindus and Muslims. His unostentatious smile which is frozen forever in the crisp tree remnants (err.. sorry if its too much for your pea brain, the author is highly shaded by PGW and her phrase “crisp tree remnants” means paper notes. Sorry for underestimating your brain to the size of pea, in case you already cracked it). Some people adore the last part most. Yeah, his smile. On crisp notes. Get the point?
Bingo, A thief broke into my home a week ago. I was as usual in under-civilized part of the country (this time in East Rajasthan, 20 km from the border). A hacksaw and a can of chloroform did the trick. He broke open through the main door. Dad was in deep sleep(mom had gone for vacating hostel for my younger sister), perhaps romancing with mom at least in dreams. Little did he know he was being chloroformed and taken the rudraksh that he was wearing tied by a gold chain and which has been running down our family for the past eight generations, cash taken from his wallet and other odd places where mom feels is for emergency use like behind the gas cylinder in kitchen, behind the mirror in the bathroom, inside the rice drum and other such equally not-so-cashy places. Then he took my dad’s third daughter, his blackberry phone along with two AC remotes and his diabetic check kit (thinking them to be mobile phones too). So it is definitely someone who knew the stuff at home. But fate has it that we cant blame it on anyone as the gardener, house keeper and cook work in shifts, so there are nearly 20 different persons every week allotted by the company.

Am not done yet. There is more. He has taken the three year old son of my neighbour, bought him lot of chocolates and biscuits and put him in the police station himself.

Am still not done. My dad after the chloroform finally gave way for his neurons to start reacting, went to the police station to lodge a complaint, only to find the DSP’s house had been looted too.

And Mr./Ms Thief, in case you are reading my blog (yeah, this incident has made the author believe that even thieves read her super famous blog L) please keep everything. Just return the rudraksh. My dad loves it. Perhaps more than me.

And if you think this is an April First Fool post, the author swears the contents are true to the best of her telephonically heard knowledge from home and is in need of comforting words, and of course, crisp tree remnants as a source of temporary solace from the shock.