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So she should give us a party in her new home.Suresh: Of course.Me: Hmm… okay. Say this evening at 8?Suresh: Perfect.Pooja: Hey Suresh, bring some wine and vodka for us.Me: Let’s just be only three of us. I don’t want any more people.Suresh: Sure.I went to Pooja’s place and stayed there for a while and went home. I prepared food for three and had a shower. Then I got ready. I wore short spaghetti strap shift dress. Suresh came there at 7.Me: I thought you are supposed to be at 8?Suresh: I am punctual.Me: That’s commendable but aren’t you forgetting something?Suresh: Forgetting what?Me: Pooja? You are supposed to pick up her?Suresh: Oh shit. She is going to kill me.He called her and said she should come by herself for which she replied that she will be late.Me: What shall we do till then?Suresh: Let’s play some game or drink or have food.Me: Do not drink or eat till Pooja joins us.Suresh: Let’s watch TV in that case.We sat on a sofa and were watching a Bond movie. I went to kitchen to. While John is academically brilliant, or perhaps because of that brilliance, there have been, shall we say, difficulties in assimilating into traditional educational environments? It is my earnest hope that the rigorous environment at the academy will prove sufficiently challenging to engage fully the interest of my young genius.In the unlikely event the problem lies not with their previous instruction, I pray that you employ the same effective measures that saved my good friend Mr. Charles Andrews' wife from a life of shame and prepared her for the life of domestic tranquility that Charles enjoys. He has sung the praises of your school, and explained the changes that occurred in Elizabeth during her short stay with you; it is my desire that any and all necessary measures be taken to ensure my child's integration into society.With great respect, I remain sincerely yours/signed/Silas Doe, Esq.I placed the a new folder labeled with your name on my desk, jotting a note for my secretary.
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The ‘weeping’ willow was the odd-one-out amid his Pine buddies but stood proudly like a rose among thorns. The sun was low -as if running a little late- upon that morning, casting an ambient, soothing glow upon the village. A gentle breeze, carrying fresh morning fragrances, scrubbed the sun from the kids’ sweaty faces as they played cricket, their feverish voices shouting excitedly at each other. ‘Grampa,’ A gay voice shouted his arrival. ‘I’m home.’ The cricket match had ended, and Mohan, having lost, had dashed straight home. ‘Over here, son,’ the old man replied from the living room and laid the Bhagvad Gita upon the bedside table. Mohan ran straight into his arms, like an arrow to its target. For as long as he could remember, his ‘Grampa’ had been his only family. He did not have a Mummy and Daddy like the other kids, but his Grampa was the best, he didn’t scold him like the other parents did their kids. ‘Wash your face?’ Grandpa Vikramsingh asked. ‘Yes,’ Mohan replied with.

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