The Awesome Twosome

I can still hear those cute little sparrows chirping at the crack of dawn. They woke me up, but this never made me angry. I felt their excitement contagious.

One trim and smart figure holds my hand in his and off we go hand in hand to explore new experiences nature had in store for us that warm morning. The route we adopt is strangely familiar. ‘The Golf Ground’ is one fascinating place. I obediently stand with this figure well draped in a coat and together we watch the gifted players playing golf on the tender green bed. From a source unknown a golf ball drops right next to us. We wait. Nobody claims it. The hand which held me releases grip and pockets the ball. We move on, hand in hand again. I constantly eye the round lump in his pocket. We reach ‘The Guest House’. I am left free in this semi-circular area adorned by huge trees and tiny butterflies. The figure with a scarf around his neck keeps an eye on me as I play my own game in nature’s company. He stands facing the Sun; arms wrapped across his chest enjoying a sun-bath.
Once again, we lock our hands in each others and head back home greeting friends on the way. A restless and curious mind, I still have an eye on his pocket. We reach home. That calm and resolute figure changes his attire, mounts his reading glasses on his sharp nose and drowns into the newspaper.
A soft and caring voice then calls for me. I run towards her. She aids me in the shower and religiously teaches me a few ‘shlokas’ which I recite with eyes tight shut. The short but sweet lady seems satisfied. Grumbling with love she decks me up with ribbons, tie, belt, socks and shoes. She wipes my mouth one final time with her sari whose fragrance speaks volumes in deep silence. I reach the door. The strict-looking figure holding the newspaper eyed the lovely lady and then revealed that the golf ball was in my cupboard. There was a twinkle in his handsome eyes and radiance on her face as my lips unfurled a big smile.

Coming back to the present, recovering from nostalgia I look around incisively.
The firm hand that held me was those of my grandfathers and the gentle voice the called me was that of my grandmothers. The warmth in his hands and the fragrance of her sari still linger around me……..