homeranking.info Fiction RAVINDER SINGH ALL BOOKS PDF

Ravinder singh all books pdf

Saturday, March 9, 2019 admin Comments(0)

To download more free e-books visit our website. ravinder singh best books, ravinder singh books pdf free download, ravinder singh contact, ravinder singh latest The story of three friends and how one's mistakes changed it homeranking.info life. Results 1 - 9 of 9 Buy ravinder singh Books at homeranking.info singh. Free shipping on books over $25 ! Not all love stories are meant to have a happy ending. Like It Happened Yesterday - Singh Ravinder - Free download as PDF File .pdf), Text File .txt) or read online It Happened Yesterday is his third book. Weve all experienced the first flush of love and remember the lingering fragrance of it.


Author: MIKI PLEASANTS
Language: English, Spanish, Portuguese
Country: Laos
Genre: Personal Growth
Pages: 378
Published (Last): 12.01.2016
ISBN: 187-3-76600-362-9
ePub File Size: 18.78 MB
PDF File Size: 8.13 MB
Distribution: Free* [*Regsitration Required]
Downloads: 33875
Uploaded by: DOMINICK

Download Free 'This Love that Feels Right' by Ravinder Singh Book PDF. k views Here is a link of all Ravinder Singh books PDF files. Ravinder Singh. Ravinder Singh is the bestselling author of I Too Had a Love Story, Can Love Happen Twice?, Like It Happened Yesterday and Your Dreams Are Mine Now. Ravinder Singh is the bestselling author of I Too Had a Love Story, Can Love Happen Download provided by [email protected], join us to get more books without a It had all become a phenomenon, which was unseen in Delhi till that evening.

I thought it was safe to follow everyone. And yet here it was, slipping out of my fingers As soon as both the hands of the clock hit twelve, I closed my eyes with the pleasant feeling that it had been seven years since my birth. What was. They all had their mouths closed, so I could not get to know what sort of dental problems they had. My Jai dies. Its done! At that time we didnt know that the box contained something that would change our lives forever!

October 7, Please enable JavaScript before proceeding: Firefox On the Tools menu top left of browser , click Options. On the Content tab, click to select the Enable JavaScript check box. Click OK to close the Options popup. Refresh your browser page to run scripts and reload content. Click the Internet Zone. If you do not have to customize your Internet security settings, click Default Level. Then go to step 5.

Click Custom Level. Click OK to close the Internet Options popup. Chrome On the Control button top right of browser , select Settings from dropdown.

Under the header JavaScript select the following radio button: Allow all sites to run JavaScript recommended. We found 9 results. Ravinder Singh: Sort By: Filter Sort. Sorted By: Top Matches. Filtered By:. Grid List. Order By: Will You Still Love Me? Kobo ebook. Available for download Not available in stores.

There is more to love than just loving. It is also a promise Lavanya Gogoi is from the scenic hills of Shillong while Rajveer Saini belongs to the shahi city of Patiala. Worlds apart from one another, the two land up next to each other on a flight from….

Out of stock online Not available in stores. Not all love stories are meant to have a happy ending. Tell Me a Story by Ravinder Singh.

In stock online Not available in stores. There is always a story that changed your life And that is the time when life happened for you!

Tell Me a Story is a collection of heart-warming stories about events and incidents that have affected or changed the lives of the writers in ways that they cannot….

In stock online Available in stores. A major work in the ongoing science of headache treatment. Only when he would miss the right turn towards the Pakka Market and continue to go straight, where the road led to nothing but the hospital, we would be clear of his ill intentions. And then suddenly my brother and I would start squirming on our seats, knowing what was coming our way. Daddy, assi kitthey jaa rahe hain?

It was quite common for our father to not provide an answer to that one. So I would tell my brother, Tinku, Daddy saanu injection lagvaan lae ke jaa rahe hai. So I would tell him, Daddy ne jhutt boleya si. The bicycle would keep moving. The two of us would keep talking. I always wanted to hold my brothers hand then.

He too would want to see me. But the two of us used to be separated by our father. Right at the registration counter, our fear would take a mammoth shape. The clerk at the registration desk knew our father very well. He would smile and fill in half the details on his own. Our father would take two slips, one for each of us, and we would walk with him, holding his hands on.

As we walked up the staircase, I would realize how close we were to the terrible process. The peculiar smell of disinfectant would fill my nostrils and virtually choke me. The dark galleries of the hospitals outdoor wards would terrorize me. The sight of the green curtains, the nurses in white and the number of sick people around would make me also feel sick.

The whole atmosphere in that government hospital was that of a horror story. That horror multiplied by several times the moment we would reach our ward. As usual, there would be a vampire-like nurse whose business it was to draw blood from peoples fingers or arms, besides injecting poor little kids like us.

We knew her well. She was acquainted with us too. We were a challenge for her. Many times, we had created a scene in front of her and the rest of the hospital, crying, screaming and running out without our pants! Knowing our desperation to escape, Dad never forgot to lure us with items of our interest. Most of the times, he would tempt us by saying that he was going to treat us to Frootia popular mango drink if only we agreed to take the shots.

We were madly in love with that three-rupee drink, which came packaged in a square green Tetra Pak. The front of the packet had an image of two ripe, yellow mangoes, with droplets of chilled water sliding down them. Dad knew very well how much we loved this particular drink. Insane as it might sound, our deep love for Frooti overcame our fear of the injections, and our father knew how to use that. We would willingly lie down on our stomachs on the medical bed, baring our bottoms for the injections.

In our minds, we would see the shopkeeper taking the chilled packets of Frooti out of his freezer, just for us.

Can Love Happen Twice

In the meantime, the nurse would take out the needle from the boiling water over the electric heater. Our dreams would progress, and we would now be holding our coveted drink in our hands. The nurse was constantly in the process of preparing the injection, pushing in the nozzle to flush the air out of the syringe. And, as we imagined piercing the tiny round foil at the upper corner of the Tetra Pak with our pointed straws, the nurse would pierce our behinds with that injection.

The reality of that moment, for the next few seconds, would break our reverie and leave us in great pain. But, we knew, the key for us was to keep holding on to our thoughts, to relish them enough to be able to overlook reality. Soon it would all be over, yet we continued to lie there, exactly in the same posture, happily imagining sipping our Frootis, smiling!

Two brothers, lying half-naked on their stomach, with their eyes glued to a daydream and smiles pasted on their faces! And thats when the nurse would shout, Utth jaao. Ho gaya! Its done! Our experience of drinking Frooti would not just end there at the shop. It was a ritual for us to bring that empty Tetra Pak back home with us. We would blow as much air as possible into it with the straw, place the inflated packet on the ground and ask everyone around us to watch as we jumped over our packets.

It would burst like a cracker. That would mark the completion of our Frooti adventure! If, by any chance, the packet didnt burst at the first go, we would not shy away from picking it up and going on and on, until it finally gave way.

Ravinder Singh (author)

One day, Dad took me for a visit to the hospital again. He told me that my injection course had been completed, and so I could relax.

But how could I relaxwhen I was being taken into that same building? I was only convinced when he took a different staircase this time, leading to a different wing. I had never been to this part of the hospital earlier. Yet, I was sceptical. After all, injections werent the only thing I hated, it was the entire hospital. Dad took me straight to the dental outdoor ward. There was already a long queue there.

Dad handed over the ticket to the compounder, who placed it underneath the stack of tickets on the doctors table. He then placed a paperweight over the pile, and went back to relax on the stool by the door. I wondered why we were there. I looked at the people around me. They all had their mouths closed, so I could not get to know what sort of dental problems they had. Which made me wonderWhat sort of a problem did I have?

Everything was fine with me. I had neither complained of any toothache, nor did I have foul breath. So I asked my father, Daddy, you have a problem with your teeth? Tuhadde dand kharaab hain? He laughed and shook his head, Nahi, nahi! Taa fer assi aithe kyun aaye, haan? I asked, wondering why we were there, in that case.

My father sat me down and told me the reason why we were in the dental ward.

All ravinder pdf singh books

My front two milk teeth had fallen a few months back. The gap should ideally have been filled up by a pair of brand new, permanent teeth. My family kept expecting this act of nature to happen by itself. But nature had been probably too busy with other things, and forgotten me.

So we needed a doctor, who could become natures proxy for me. About half an hour later the doctor called my name: Ravinder Singh! My father flung into action. He asked me to quickly put back on the rubber slippers that had fallen off my hanging feet. Together, we rushed inside the room. The room was bright with sunrays, which flooded into it from a spacious window behind the dentist.

There was a person sitting next to the dentist, with a black bag on his lap. Once in a while, he pulled out a medicine from it and kept talking about it to the dentist. Dad told me that this man was a medical representative. I dont know what exactly he wanted, but the dentist did not seem even a bit interested in his talk. The only time the dentist looked at him was when he placed a nice-looking pen set, a diary and a calendar on his table.

RAVINDER SINGH · OverDrive (Rakuten OverDrive): eBooks, audiobooks and videos for libraries

Looking at them, the dentist asked, The same things again? The medical representative slipped his hand inside his bag again and brought out a plastic torch, which he placed on the table with a huge smile. Soon after this, he left. I wondered why hed spent so. I looked around. The walls around me had neatly labelled diagrams of jaws and teeth.

The words incisor, canine, molar and pre-molar in one of the pictures appeared familiar to me. I had read about them in my science class. I wanted to show my father my brilliance. So I tugged at his hand, wanting to tell him that we should tell the dentist that my incisors had failed to develop.

But he ignored me and continued to explain the problem himself. I continued to look at the decorated walls. There was a poster of a beautiful lady with glittering white teeth. She had a tube of white-and-red striped toothpaste in her hand. She had a beautiful smile. Now, finally, the dentist looked at me, and asked me to open my mouth. I smiled, imitating the smile of the lady in the poster.

The dentist, unimpressed, asked me to look towards him and not towards the poster. Dont smile, Ravinder, open your mouth.

Like thisaaaaaaaa! He looked funny. Id guessed the smile was a nice way to reveal my teeth, including the absent ones. However, this time I opened my mouth as wide as possible and sang, Aaaaaaaaa! I made my tongue dance to the sound. As I held my mouth wide open for the longest time, my eyes seemed to shrink and my cheeks were stretched.

I had invested a lot of energy in sustaining that show. Everyone around me was looking at me. Okay, okay, this is enough, the dentist finally said.

I closed my mouth and turned my attention back to the smiling lady with the toothpaste. The dentist explained a few things to my father, which I completely ignored. He prescribed some medicine for me and asked us to visit him again after two days. The last thing I heard him saying was that the procedure would take an hour when we visited next, so I would have to miss a period or two at school. I checked with Dad if he was going to do anything to me, and whether it was going to be painful.

Dad shook his headall I had to do was to take the medicines and come and show the doctor my teeth, the way Id done today. I realized that after two days I could legitimately bunk school! For the next two days, each meal I ate was followed by a medicine. On Day Three, I looked at myself in the mirror while brushing my teeth to see if, by any chance, the medicines had worked and I had new teeth. The inside of my mouth appeared, more or less, just as it had two days back. Paagal dentist, I told myself in the mirror.

At school, I proudly told all my friends that I would be there for only half the day. I was going to bunk the second half! Dad was there right on time to pick me up, and, as my classmates watched with envy, I quickly put my schoolbag on my shoulders and ran to Dad.

It all started exactly the way it had started the other day.

You might also like: ALL PDF FILES FROM WEB PAGE

We first got a slip made, took the other staircase and walked through the other wing and arrived at the outdoor dental ward, where a lot of people were waiting in the queue.

I peeped inside the dentists room to see if the lady with that glittering smile was still there on the wall. Yep, she was right there! Shall we start, then? Dad nodded, without looking at me. The dentist called for a nurse and asked me to follow her. I looked at Dads face.

His silence rang a warning bell in my head. Though I followed the nurse, there were a lot of thoughts in my mind. She led me to a vacant cabin on the extreme right of the dental ward. In no time, I found myself sitting on a long reclining chair. The nurse referred to it as the dentists chair, and adjusted it for me. She pulled a lever, it leant back. She pulled another one, and I was above the ground.

I asked her what was on her mind. She didnt say a single extra word. Meanwhile, the dentist appeared. As he came closer to me, I watched him slip his hands into a pair of gloves. He then strapped on a mask. Watching that made me sure that something terrible was in store for me. I was trapped in that elevated reclining chair. I asked the dentist what was going to happen. We are going to bring your teeth out of your gums, he replied. I asked. And, when no one answered, I asked again, How?

We will have to make a small cut in your gums. And he dropped a bomb into my open mouth. You are going to cut my gums? Its going to hurt! I yelled. The dentist and the nurse ignored me. I asked them to call my father.

They still ignored me. The dentist and the nurse were now almost ready to dissect my tiny, pink gums. The nurse adjusted the overhead light so that it fell right on my face.

It blurred my vision for a second. The dentist picked up his tools and asked me to open my mouth. I was petrified. No, no! I kept repeating. My legs trembled.

I wanted to get off that reclining chair and escape, but it was impossible to get off. The dentist said it wouldnt hurt, because he was going to give me anaesthesia. As he mentioned that, he picked up a large injection. It had a long needle that would have been around four inches, if not five. He brandished that horrible thing right in front of my scared eyes. I froze. I couldnt utter a single thing.

I was staring at the injection. I cried out. No, I screamed! It was probably the loudest and the longest scream of my entire life.

Im quite sure it could be heard much beyond that small cabin, the dental ward, travelling down the staircase right into the parking lot. In its long journey, my scream must have announced my panic to almost everyone present in that hospital, including my father. In no time, Dad came running into the cabin. He looked at the dentist and the nurse.

They had left whatever they had been holding so far. Their hands were on their ears. It was all only too clear. The dentist looked at my father and didnt feel the need to say anything. My father apologized on my behalf. I looked at my father and begged him to take me away.

He patted my back and told me that it was important that I allow the dentist to operate on my mouth. He explained that if this was not done, I would be left toothless for the rest of my life. I am fine with that! I dont want this! Please, Daddy! I had begun to cry. You wont even get to know. It wont hurt at all after you take this anaesthesia, the dentist pitched in.

It took me a minute to frame my answer. How dumb! This anaesthesia injection itself is going to hurt, na! The nurse smiled. The dentist looked angrily at her. The dentist turned to Dad and announced, If you cant convince him now, you will have to bring him next week, as I have other cases to look after.

I thought of telling him to postpone it. But, right then, Dad recalled that next week he would be out of station.

Pdf all books ravinder singh

So the operation had to be done that day itself. Half an hour later, with me on that dentists chair, our negotiations and peace talks had failed. The outcome of this failure was simple. We were at war! United, they stood. Alone, I sat. Dad asked the dentist to proceed with my operation.

The dentist again picked up his syringe and filled it. I took up my attacking position. The moment the dentist came close to me, I punched into the air between us, narrowly missing the injection.

Dad shouted at me and asked the nurse to pin down one of my arms. He then grabbed my other arm. The goddamn chair didnt even allow me to jump off! I wildly paddled my legs in the air. A few cotton balls, along with a few dental instruments, fell over the big arm of the chair.

And I screamed my lungs out. It was not only difficult, but almost impossible, for the dentist to inject me. He kept shouting that if I didnt stop, my struggling might end up in the needle breaking and getting stuck somewhere inside my gum. But that didnt bother me. I screamed out louder in response. We were caught in a tussle.

It was three versus onethe little me, to be precise. The three of them were shouting too, telling each other what to do. Dad then asked the nurse to pin down both my hands. He twisted my arms and brought my hands together, behind the back of the chair, and asked the nurse to hold them down in that position. He then went to the other side of the reclining chair, to hold down my legs. He sat on my knees and weighed down my thighs. My legs were now in his full control. I gathered up all my energy and continued to protest.

The tight grip of the nurse had almost stopped the blood circulation in my wrists. I was now sweating. I felt suffocatedbut I didnt give up. My eyes had grown big and red. But my idea was not to settle down, and keep continuing my fight. But in no time, I was exhausted. I was breathing heavily. The three of them knew this. They could see that, every moment, I was getting a little more tired.

When my revolt was reduced to intermittent screams, the dentist came closer to me. My father and the nurse continued to hold me tight.

The dentist told them that he was finally going to inject me. I collected all my leftover energy and, now, instead of moving my body, I started shaking my head left and right. The dentist was now extremely irritated. So was my father. The nurse kept shouting, just out of my line of sight, Kya kar rahe ho, beta! Aise mat karo. Dont act like this. Mercilessly, he commanded the compounder to hold my head and restrain any sort of movement. He also instructed.

So this was now four versus one. The compounder attempted to do what he was told. But the moment his hands crawled on to my jaw, I bit him hard. His hands tasted of Dettol, the disinfectant. I immediately spat out, and the spit landed on the dentists apron. The compounder yelled in pain.

The dentist shrieked out of frustration. Dad continued to shout at me. The nurse kept saying, Beta, beta After a half-an-hour-long battle, my body gave up. I wanted air to breathe, a lot of it. I had fought like a braveheart. But I was now exhausted and had resigned myself to fate.

I closed my eyes when I saw the syringe inches away from me. I felt the tears from my eyes and the sweat on my face mingling together. The next thing I felt was an intense pain that surged up from my gums to somewhere behind my nose. I could feel the dentist emptying his syringe somewhere inside the tissues and nerves behind my nostrils.

There was pin-drop silence in the cabin. After taking the injection out of my mouth, the doctor wrapped a plastic body cover around me. I remained calm. Two streams of tears rolled down my cheeks. The anaesthesia was quick in its work. I could soon feel a heaviness in my gums.

I opened my eyes and looked at Dad. He told me it was all fine. I looked at his hands. They were still pinning down my thighs. I looked back into his eyes. I didnt say anything. I didnt want to say anything. I closed my wet eyes and remained calm for the rest of the procedure. After about twenty minutes, the dentist tapped my shoulder and told me, Its all over. You can get up. I opened my eyes, but, this time, I didnt make any eye contact with him.

I had heard what he had said, yet I didnt move. I ignored it and him. The nurse let go of my hands. My father got up and came closer to me. He assured me that the operation was over. He patted my shoulder, in an attempt to comfort me. I didnt make any eye contact with him either. Nor did I speak. When he asked me to get up, I didnt move.

When he left me alone and went away to consult the dentist about what I should eat and what I shouldnt, I got up unnoticed and walked out of the room. While walking out of the cabin, I came across a washbasin with a mirror installed on the wall above it.

I looked at myself. My nose and lips were still inflated. There were a few bloodstains on my shirt and around my lips. I tried to open my mouth. I wasnt able to feel anything.

The effect of the anaesthesia was still there. I was merely able to pull down my lower lip. I saw cotton stuffed in my mouth, surrounding my front upper gums. The dentist shouted from behind me: Dont take the cotton out! I tucked my T-shirt into my shorts and walked out of the room alone. In the meantime, Dad had finished his conversation with the dentist and followed me out. Chalo, ghar chalein, [Lets go home] he said, and took my hand.

I didnt say anything but followed him but not before slipping my fingers out of his hands. It was late in the night on my seventh birthday when the most intriguing thought of my life crossed my mind. Mom had switched off the lights long back and I was in my bed. Day-long celebrations of my birthday and the euphoria of it all had left me quite tired by the end of the day. Yet, I was awake. My eyes were focused on the fluorescent minute and hour hands of the clock on the dark wall in front of me.

Technically, in the next fifteen minutes my birthday would be over. So I was revisiting the series of events of that special day. It had been a perfect birthday. In the morning, Dad had said special prayers on my behalf in the gurdwara. At school, I was the only student who wasnt in his uniform but in his new birthday clothes.

I was the one for whom the entire class sang Happy birthday to you, and, in return, I had distributed chocolates to my classmates and my teachers. In the evening, for the very first time, I had cut a cake on my birthday. Till then, cake-cutting wasnt a practice that my family followed. After many requests from me, my parents had agreed to a cake-cutting ceremony. So Mom had borrowed an oven from someone in the neighbourhood and baked the cake for me.

It had seven cherries on the top. For my cake-cutting ceremony, I had made sure that I invited only those friends of mine who would bring gifts for me. For dinner, Mom had made my favourite rajma chaawal.

It was a beautiful day and I wished for it to never end. And yet here it was, slipping out of my fingers As soon as both the hands of the clock hit twelve, I closed my eyes with the pleasant feeling that it had been seven years since my birth. But how the hell was I born? And my eyes flashed open.

It occurred to me suddenly. But how the hell had I been born? I thought to myself. Seven years had passed and this thought had never struck my mind, ever!

All of a sudden, in the darkness of that night, the fact that I didnt know how I had arrived on this planet started bothering me. Never before had my own existence in this world been as thrilling for me as it became on that very night.

I spent the next few minutes tackling my anxiety. I pacified myself by thinking that there was nothing to worry about, and that I would soon find out how I was born. However, sleep had run miles away from me.

I had some vague thoughts and theories of my own. Maybe Mom had planted a seed in our garden and I came out of the plant! Maybe I had been dropped from the sky during the rainy season. If not that, then maybe These thoughts were all products of my wondering mind in the middle of the night, but none of them appeared convincing enough to me. I kept tossing and turning in bed, turning over the thoughts again and again.

Almost an hour later, too restless to stay in bed, I sat up. I looked at my mother, who was sleeping along with Tinku on the bed next to mine. I then looked at Tinku and wonderedHow had I missed noticing when Tinku was born? He arrived two years after me!

I spent the next few minutes regretting how I had missed my glorious chance to solve this puzzle. I juggled between wanting to wake Mom up to ask her my question, and resisting myself and going back to sleep. I finally chose not to wake her up, so I went back to my bed. But the excitement didnt let me sleep. Five minutes later, I got up from the bed again.

I looked at Mom, again. Barefoot and in my pajamas and vest, I walked towards Mom. When I reached her side of the bed, I stood close to her face. She was in deep sleep. I was in deep anxiety. I whispered. Nothing happened. I whispered louder.

Hmm Mom murmured in her sleep. I was too scared to wake her up. I didnt whisper, but called her aloud this time. And she woke up with a start.

She was scared. She looked at me and then at the clock, and realized that she had been asleep and I had just woken her up. Worried, she got up and asked, Ki hogaya, beta? I rubbed my right foot against my left leg. Ki hogaya, haan? This time, I rubbed my nose and eyes with my fingers.

For a while, I even forgot why I had woken her up. She asked if I wanted to go to the bathroom. I shook my head from left to right to indicate the negative.

She seemed to be getting impatient. My brother, in his sleep, shifted from the right to the left. I managed to utter. Haan, bol? I blurted out my questionHow was I born? I stared intently at her face but could not read her facial expressions. There was a smile on her lips. There was confusion in between the lines of her forehead. It took me three more weeks to crack the biggest mystery of my life till then. Unfortunately, and I dont know why, no one was ready to share the truth with me.

I had trusted my mother when she had said that she didnt know how I was born, because shed found me in the gurdwara one day. But I stopped believing her when, on verifying, I got a different answer from my father. He said that he too didnt know how I had arrived on this planet, as he had bought me from a shop which was far away from home. Both of them! All those evasive answers had only intensified my curiosity to know the truth about my birth.

On the one hand, it all appeared like a secret conspiracy to me; even though, on the other, I didnt quite reject the possibility that a natural calamity had, by some means, thrown me into this world. I kept thinking of this all the timeon my way to school, between classes, in my bed before falling asleep, and the very next morning with a fresh mind while squatting over the toilet.

By the end of the second week, my curiosity had spiralled into an enormous question. It occupied my mind so badly that I was not able to focus on my school lessons.

It was strange how it played on my mind continuously. Every time I thought about giving my brain a break by not thinking about it any more, I found myself doing the exact opposite in the next half an hour. It was as if I was addicted to it. At one time, I thought my brain would explode, struggling over the permutation and combination that it had been doing since the past two weeks. I reached a stage where I had to get it out of my system. So, finally, I decided to share my question with some of my classmates.

Who knew, perhaps they were going through a similar dilemma, or perhaps they had an answer? One day, at recess, as we munched on the food from our tiffin boxes, I brought up the subject with a few friends who I was close to. While none of the boys had an answer to my question, a girl called Pinky had a startling insight to offer.

You have come from your mommys stomach, she answered casually, and continued to eat her lunch. I stared at her, shocked.

She knew this big secret, and was acting as if knowing it wasnt a big deal at all! Also, it troubled me that a girl knew all about a subject which I knew nothing about; or, for that matter, none of the boys did! How could a girl know about it and not a boy? The male chauvinist in me felt insulted. The other boys seemed to have no such ego problems about Pinkys claim.

They were busy eating from their tiffins. They didnt seem to be affected by it all! I waited and tried to digest it all. I gulped down my prejudice and turned my thoughts to what Pinky had actually said. For some reason, I believed her theory. Perhaps it had been the confidence with which she had said it. I was feeling a little relieved. Till suddenly our friend Mandeep inquisitively quipped between bites, But how did he arrive in his mommys stomach?

Now that was a smart question! Chewing with concentration, I watched Pinky intently. What was. But she didnt say anything immediately. She paused for a bit, rolled her eyes and then turned to me and asked, Oh, yes! How did you get inside your mothers stomach?

The others caught on to the ignorance she was trying to hide. Isko bhi nahi pata Mandeep made fun of her, pointing out that even she did not know.

Ae, phek rahi thi phek rahi thi [Hey, she was fibbing! She was fibbing! The bell rang and we all got up to wash our hands. Pinky hadnt managed to finish her meal. While I rushed to the washroom, she merely walked, probably thinking over the debate that had just been raised.

I saw her on my way back from the washroom and realized that my feelings for her had changed all of a sudden. I empathized with her. At least she offered me something which I believed in or could believe in. She was better than my parents, who always started their answers with: I dont know, because we got you from here and there!

At last, the school ended, and, then, the day ended. But my query still remained. It had now only spread from one person to two peoplePinky and I.

But, as they say, where there is a will there is a way, and we too discovered our way by the end of the third week. But not before Pinky and I became really good friends! She had not brushed aside my question.

She too was equally interested now in solving my mystery. As I said, by the end of the third week since my birthday, I found myself very close to having this mystery solved. It was a Sundayneedless to say, one of the most enlightening Sundays of my life! This took place after Rangoli, a programme on Hindi film songs that used to air on Doordarshan.

Mom had given both of usmy brother and mea head bath. Now, for us Sardar kids, Sundays used to hold a different meaning from everyone else. Besides all the fun of a holiday, Sundays for us came along with the cumbersome task of washing our long hair. It was a routine that Mom refused to let go of.

She would carefully undo the buns on our heads, make us bend our heads and let the hair tumble down, before rigorously applying shampoo. The most difficult part was to hold my head in that bent position over a long time. The smell of Clinic Plus shampoo dominated the bathroom on this day of the week. But the ritual of the head bath didnt just end with the shampoo. After the bath, Mom would make us sit in the sun in order to dry out our hair. Most of the times, she would serve us breakfast in the sun.

And, once she was free from the chores of the kitchen, she would apply coconut oil to our hair. Then it would be again put into a bun, and another week would pass before we went through the same process. But that Sunday, there was no sun outside. Also, the servant who used to sweep the gurdwara compound every morning had arrived late. Mom was afraid that if he started cleaning the compound, the dust and dirt would get into our hair again.

So she asked the two of us to come inside. Even better. We promptly plonked ourselves in front of the TV, our wet hair open and spread over the towels draped on the chair backs, with tiny water droplets rattling down the strands of our hair, forming a. To top it off, Mom had served us a piping hot breakfast of paranthas along with curd, with salt and pepper sprinkled nicely over it.

We ate like happy brothers; our legs paddling in the air, our fingers and lips smacked with curd, and, at times, the two of us fighting to grab the next parantha that Mom would bring in from the kitchen.

This was indeed the good lifeno school, no classes, only TV and playing! Right at nine oclock, like on every other Sunday, Mom brought in the last two paranthas for herself, along with some tea. While she readied herself to watch the most-watched television show of India, Mahabharat, my brother and I prepared ourselves to sing along with the title track.

It was a part of our regular Sunday routine, which drove our mother nuts, but was a lot of fun. With our eyes closed, we chorused in unison and rendered the track in our highest possible pitch: Sambhavaami yugeyyy yugeyyyyyyyyyyyyy! Our uncalled-for performance continued till that time-machine guy began with the same boring introduction: Main Samay hoon, and thats when Mom shouted, Bus, haan!

Chup ho jaao tussi doven. Stop, you two. We whispered and made fun of the time-machine chap. We used to call him HMT, after the name of the popular brand of wristwatches. I had no idea what Mom liked so much about watching those planets travelling here and there and listening to the silhouette of the time-machine guy. There used to be a wheel with four spokes as well, much like a wheel of a chariot. It would zoom in and out. Tinku and I watched Mahabharat mainly for the battle scenes, especially because these were wars with charmed bows and arrows.

It was fascinating for us to watch how, at times, the arrows would rain from the sky, and, at other times, they would change into snakes. It was a mix of sci-fi with the world of mythology.

The forest scenes, too, held a lot of interest for us. We loved it when the monsters with magical powers were beaten up by the kings. That day, the episode of Mahabharat had neither any battle scene, nor anything in the forests; but it turned out to be one of the most revelatory in my life.

Chup ho ja, please! I shouted to Tinku, when he insisted I go out and play with him. How could I? I had just seen a ray of hope!