safalniveshak.com two wise men

safalniveshak.com 1

SAFALNIVESHAK.COM

TWO WISE MEN 40 Stories for Children Inspired from the Wit and

Wisdom of Warren Buffett and Charlie Munger

VISHAL KHANDELWAL S. B. VALLARI

Imag

e S

ou

rce:

Po

or

Ch

arli

e’s

Alm

anac

k

https://www.safalniveshak.com/

safalniveshak.com 2

~ Dedication ~

To all the beautiful children who have inspired this book

and will now read it. You make the world magical.

To Warren Buffett and Charlie Munger


safalniveshak.com 3

“It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.”

~ J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

“Listen to the MUSTN'TS, child. Listen to the DON'TS. Listen to the SHOULDN'TS, the IMPOSSIBLES, the WON'TS. Listen to the NEVER HAVES, then listen close to me... Anything can happen, child. Anything can be.”

~ Shel Silverstein, Where the Sidewalk Ends

“Watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you, because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don't who don't believe in magic will never find it.”

~ Roald Dahl, The Minpins


safalniveshak.com 4

Foreword

Dear Young Believer, In July 2016, Bill Gates, the co-founder of Microsoft and now a philanthropist, wrote a memoir on his 25 years of friendship with Warren Buffett, the world’s best investor ever and one of the most-followed businessmen. Here is how Gates started his memoir –

I don’t remember the exact day I first met most of my friends, but with Warren Buffett I do. It was 25 years ago today: July 5, 1991. I think the date stands out in my mind so clearly because it marked the beginning of a new and unexpected friendship for Melinda and me—one that has changed our lives for the better in every imaginable way. Warren has helped us do two things that are impossible to overdo in one lifetime: learn more and laugh more.

That last note caught my attention. Including the two lessons that Gates learned from Buffett, there are four most important lessons I have learned from studying the latter and his partner Charlie Munger over the past 15+ years.


safalniveshak.com 5

One, the importance of being a lifelong learner. Two, keep my life simple. Three, closely guard my character and reputation. Four, not take life too seriously and stay happy always. These are apart from the hundreds of lessons I have learned from these two wise men on how to be sensible with my money. However, when it comes to passing on these lessons to children, I always found one thing lacking – stories that would convey these lessons to children in the language they understood, or stories that parents and teachers could use to pass the invaluable lessons from Buffett and Munger to children in the language they loved. Thus was born the idea of creating this book that contains a lot of such stories that would pass on the lessons on life, career, relationship, money and behaviour from these two wise men to children. The stories you would read in this book have been co-authored by my friend S.B. Vallari and me. Vallari is a fiction writer based in India. Her current focus is on writing short stories for children and young adults. You see, the current state of our lives is largely a direct result of the stories we tell ourselves, and what we really believe is possible – not what we say is possible, but what we believe deep down in our core.


safalniveshak.com 6

If we change the limiting stories we tell ourselves, we will be able to change our lives for the better. The stories you read in this book are non-limiting, simply because underlying them are thoughts from two of the wisest men in the world living today that have helped them become so wise. Of course, you will learn the lessons you most need only when you are ready for them. So, read these stories, and re-read them, because they will help you immensely when you are ready to use the lessons contained in them to make yourself wiser and happier. I have benefited a lot from the wit and wisdom of Buffett and Munger. I am sure you would too. Here’s to your happiness and wisdom. Love, Vishal Safalniveshak.com [email protected]



safalniveshak.com 7

The Three Teeth in My Mouth and Other Stories

Hello! How are you doing today? I am sitting in my bed and writing this to tell you that I have begun a book. A book that I have wanted to write for a long time now. It just so happens that I have begun writing it on my birthday. I got some money for my birthday this time. I am so excited to receive three thousand rupees on my thirteenth birthday. I have never been given money before for my birthday. And why I got money instead of presents today also has a story. I am going to tell you this story before I begin my book. It all started when a long time ago, my Papa came home one day from office. As he took off his shoes and tie and sat down on the sofa without even talking to us, my mom looked at me and put her finger to her lips. “Shhhhhhhh,” Mummy told me softly, “Papa is tired. Leave him alone today.” I looked at Papa turning on the TV to his favourite news channel.


safalniveshak.com 8

“No, he’s not!” I told my mom. “He is going to watch news now.” I ran and climbed into his lap. Papa pushed me away a little. “Not now, Keshav,” he said. “Go and sleep now. It is past your bedtime.” “I am not feeling sleepy Papa. And you promised you would tell me about the thing that happened yesterday. I remember what it’s called, a scam, right Papa?” I asked him, pulling his shirt. Papa looked at Mummy. “Instead of bedtime stories, he wants to know what is a scam! Why did Sameer Rai go to jail? Why has the Prime Minister declared a war on corruption? What is black money? Why did an award winner make fake money?” My mom smiled. Papa continued, “He still has two or three teeth left in his mouth that need falling out. How do I make him understand how to behave and act sensibly? How do I help him understand the true value and worth of money?” I didn't understand what Papa said to Mummy. How were the remaining three teeth in my mouth that had to fall out so that I got new ones related to what I was asking him? I kept quiet. Mummy was saying something to Papa. Papa was shaking his head. “At least try, Vijay,” Mummy said.


safalniveshak.com 9

Papa looked at her and flung his hands in the air. “Okay, done. After all, there’s nothing to lose, is there? Let’s see how much he understands. It’ll be good for me too.” He came towards me, lifted me up and said, “Come Keshav, let me tell you a story before you go to bed.” He pulled out a big, fat book from the shelf in the drawing room and we walked to my room. He waved at Mummy. “Good night, Mummy!” I wished her. “Come join us when you finish your work.” “Please enjoy yourselves,” she smiled and replied. “I have too much work to do.” “Okay,” Papa said. “Okay,” I said. Mummy laughed. Papa and I went to my bedroom. This was the first night in many nights when my father told me stories. Stories about people – adults stronger, and not so strong as him, children older and younger than me, poor adults, rich adults, happy children, sad children, honest adults, lying children, lying adults, honest children. And more and more and more. I have collected these stories so that we could all learn from them. I certainly learn from them every day.


safalniveshak.com 10

I have collectively titled these stories as “Two Wise Men.” This is because most of these stories contain lessons from Warren Buffett and Charlie Munger, whom my Papa calls the two wisest men in the world from whom he has learned a lot. I hope you have as much fun reading them as I had listening to them from my Papa before going off to sleep every night. Cheers, Keshav Bhatia Class VIII



TWO WISE MEN

Stories for Children Inspired from the Wit and Wisdom of Warren

Buffett and Charlie Munger

www.safalniveshak.com


http://www.safalniveshak.com/


Who Are These Two Wise Men?

Warren Buffett, born in 1930, is the world's most famous investor, and among the best-known businessmen and philanthropists. He is also among the richest guys in the world, but despite that is simple and modest, and still lives in the same house in Omaha, US that he bought around 60 years ago. Warren’s first businesses were selling chewing gums, Coca-Cola bottles, and weekly magazines door to door. This was when he was just around ten years of age. He also started investing very early, and has much to teach others about how to invest and live smartly and sensibly. Charlie Munger, born in 1924, is Warren Buffett’s business partner, and amongst the best investors in the world. As a teenager, he worked at Buffett & Son, a grocery store owned by Warren Buffett's grandfather. He is one of the smartest guys around who can teach us about how to become wiser day after day.



Index of Stories – Part I 1. Lost and Found: The Kohinoor Diamond 14 2. A Teacher’s Dilemma 19 3. The New School 24 4. The Two New Restaurants in Town 28 5. The Dora Doll Birthday Party 35 6. The Banana Tree 40 7. The New Video Game 46 8. The Earth Revolves Around the Sun 51 9. My Dad’s Hero 57 10. The Bungalow on the Corner of the Street 66 11. The Syrup Ice-Cream Man 73


Lost and Found: The Kohinoor Diamond


“Knowing what you don’t know is more useful than being brilliant.”

~ Charlie Munger

***

Lost and Found: The Kohinoor Diamond Raju, Deepu and Sonia were walking down from school one day. They all lived in a lane near Red Fort in Delhi. They were fighting over who got better marks in the History half-yearly exam. Sonia was smiling. She had a speaking disability so she could not speak much. She listened to the other two fight. She had scored seventy percent in her exams. She showed her paper to her friends. “That’s nothing. Even I scored seventy percent. But I have a ‘very good’ remark with five stars,” Deepu said. “I got a seventy percent too. But ma’am told me I was the best student in class,” Raju exclaimed happily. A young boy was walking behind them. He heard them talking and quickly overtook them. As he hurried past them, he dropped a shiny looking stone on the road.



Raju ran and picked up the stone. “Hey, you dropped this!” he shouted. The boy stopped, looked back and saw Raju holding the stone in his hand, calling him to come back. He walked back to him. “Oh, thank you! My mother would have scolded me so much!” he said. “Not a problem. But what is this?” asked Raju. The boy looked left and right. He looked all around before leading Raju to a corner of the road. Deepu and Sonia, feeling left out, went behind them too. “Don’t tell anybody. This is a part of the Kohinoor diamond! You know about it, don’t you?” he asked Raju. “Kohinoor?” Raju could not contain his excitement. “Yes, of course! It was a part of the decorations of this very fort we are standing in front of. The Red Fort! And it was taken by the Britishers,” he said. Sonia nodded her head vigorously. “Not just that. Our government is negotiating with the British government to get it back,” said Deepu. “Wow, you guys know it all!” said the boy. “So you know that a part of it was kept back by the soldiers of the Red



Fort? They knew it was going to be stolen and broke it into two and kept the bigger part here,” he said. Raju cleared his throat, and said, “Of course! I know that!” Deepu and Sonia nodded their heads. “You three are very smart,” the boy said. “Tell you what? You can take this part of the gem and show it to your parents.” “Yes! Yes! Yes!” shouted the boys and Sonia, silently in her mind. “Here, take it. But, you must give me something that I can keep against this diamond,” the boy said. “You see, we are meeting for the first time.” “What is your name?” asked Raju. “Deepak”, said the boy. “Very well, Deepak. We will give you our mobile phones,” Raju said. “That’s all we have now.” “But that won’t be enough in return for such a precious diamond I’m giving you,” said Deepak. “But our mobiles are very expensive!” exclaimed Deepu.



“Oh ok, that is fine,” Deepak said, taking the phones from Deepu and Raju. “We will return the Kohinoor in the evening to you, Deepak,” said Deepu, and they all ran off to Raju’s home first. Excitedly, they thrust the diamond under Raju’s father’s nose. Raju’s father looked up from his work book. “What is this?” he asked. “Uncle, Deepak gave it to us to show it to you all!” said Deepu, not being able to contain his excitement. “It’s a part of the Kohinoor!” “Who Deepak? Kohinoor? What Kohinoor?” asked Raju’s father. “The Kohinoor Diamond, Papa! This one!” Raju said. “Where did you get that? Who is this Deepak who gave it to you? Has he been home before?” asked his father. “N….n…no, Papa,” Raju stammered, the colour of his face going pale. “What have I told you? Where have you heard that there is a Kohinoor Diamond in India presently?” he asked. “I…I…I don't remember now,” Raju said. “Also, a diamond cannot be broken down unless by another diamond itself! And that’s very rarely done,”



Raju’s father continued. “It’s the hardest found substance in nature. It is almost always used to cut other substances.” Raju, Deepu and Sonia looked at him, stunned. They did not know what to say. Sonia was the first one to react. She started crying. Raju’s father looked at her, then Raju. He hit his head with his palm and sank into his chair. The three children sat down beside him, both Raju and Deepu were also in tears by now. Raju’s father composed himself. “Get up kids! You lost your phones but you gained something very valuable today,” he said. The children looked up. They could not understand. Hadn’t they just lost their phones to a thief? “That’s right. We have all gained a valuable lesson from this theft. Remember, you may know a lot, but you don't know everything. So, the next time you don’t know something, think twice before acting,” he advised. Then he added, gently, “It will be far more useful for you to admit it to yourself and then act upon something.” He held their hands as they walked towards the door. He left them at the door and went off in search of the stolen mobiles. The three children did not move from the door till he was out of sight.

***

A Teacher’s Dilemma


“It takes 20 years to build a reputation and five minutes to ruin it. If you think about that, you'll do things differently.”

~ Warren Buffett

***

A Teacher’s Dilemma Mr. Ramshankar was a Physics teacher in the old part of Delhi. For more than 20 years, he had taught aspiring boys and girls who wanted to be engineers the fine nuances of the subject of Physics. He loved his subject, and he knew how to talk about it. It was only a matter of time before parents started requesting him to take tuitions for their children after school as well. Now Mr. Ramshankar was a very upright and honest man. He was not very comfortable with the idea of teaching after school and taking the huge amounts of money being offered to him without keeping the school informed of the same.



But he did not know what to do. He could teach extra hours, but his school management would not understand why he would want to teach students the same thing again after school hours and earn more money through it. After all, if the students needed more lessons, it could be arranged for in school as well. He also did not know how to say no to the repeated requests that the parents were putting before him. At first, he hesitated and told them to give him some time to think about it. Then, he just grew quiet when they came daily to discuss the matter with him. He also suggested the parents to go to the school management and talk to them about extra classes. But the parents would not listen. They thought it would take a lot of time to get their request considered and executed at school. They wanted a short cut. So they kept going to his house. Finally, Mr. Ramshankar couldn’t bear it any longer. He would just get up and leave the room when a parent came to his house on the pretext of a having cup of a tea with him. Parents did not know how to convince him any longer. Except Raju’s father, who had a bright idea. When a group of parents gathered in his house to discuss the matter of Mr. Ramshankar’s stubborn refusal one evening, he shared his idea. “Why not offer Mr. Ramshankar a new TV set?” he said. “He owns a pretty old set that isn’t working



most of the time. And as far as I know, he loves watching television news daily.” “That’s a great idea!” said Deepu’s father. “I’ll go and tell him we will give him a TV set in return for one month of tutoring our three children.” “Yes, yes. You should go. And tell us what he says,” said Sonia’s mother. Deepu’s father took off for Mr. Ramshankar’s house immediately. He arrived on his doorstep and rang the bell. Mr. Ramshankar opened the door, took one look at him and began closing it without saying a word. “Wait…wait, Mr. Ramshankar. I’ve come to make you an offer you can’t refuse. Please be so gracious as to accept it,” said Deepu’s father. “What is it?” asked the old teacher. “We are going to gift you a high definition TV set. We are proud of having a teacher like you in our community. Please accept it and take our children for one month of tuitions,” he said. Mr. Ramshankar was glued to the floor upon hearing this. He could not believe his ears. He had been saving to buy a new TV set since a long time, and he still did not have



enough money to get one to enjoy his late-night TV news and other shows. Here was an offer he could not resist. Without thinking much, he accepted it. “Yes…yes, I will. Oh yes! For sure. A month, you say? Why, of course, yes,” he exclaimed. Deepu’s father was overjoyed. He sailed off to Raju’s house and was greeted excitedly by cheers of victory. The neighbours got curious and came to the house too. “What is it? Why are you so happy?” asked a neighbour. Sonia’s mother told him the story. He too, congratulated Deepu’s father on convincing Mr. Ramshankar. After all, it was not easy to talk to him about the tuitions. Amongst the neighbours was a young woman named Divya. She was an upcoming journalist and new in the neighbourhood. Upon hearing her neighbours, she silently slipped out of the crowd and went and wrote what she heard on her computer. She made a call to her office and emailed the story to them much before midnight. The next day, the local newspaper in its city edition carried a report titled – “Reluctant Physics Teacher accepts HD TV set bribe as one month tuition fee.”



Mr. Ramshankar was marked absent in the teacher’s attendance register at school that day. That very night, he left Delhi, never to come back to his native place ever again.

***

The New School


“The most important investment you can make is in yourself.”

~ Warren Buffett

***

The New School

Harini was leaving home to join a boarding school, and she did not know when she would come back. All she knew was that she had to perform well at her new school. Her uncle, her aunt, her mother, her father, her grandparents, her dog and the cat on the wall stood on the door of the house and she waved everyone goodbye. Harini had no qualms about leaving home. All she wanted was to explore her options to be able to pursue her career after school. Where she lived currently, her choices were limited after Class X. So, she asked her parents to send her to a reputed school with a hostel near her town, and they agreed after some discussion with other family members. As she sat in the car, her two-year-old brother came running to hug her. He was followed by Asha’s son, who had the habit of running around Harini’s brother all the time.

The New School


Asha was the domestic help who lived with them. She did not have a home of her own. Harini did not know why she did not have a home to go to after finishing her work, but she was happy to have Asha around. Harini was ready to leave, when Asha’s son climbed inside the car as well and refused to get down. Asha came running and started scolding her son to get out of the car. He was six years old and was very fond of cars. Vishwajeet uncle, Harini’s father, tried to coax him into getting down too. “Son, I will come back after dropping Harini to the station and take you for a ride. She is getting late. Hurry now, get down!” he said. “I want to go to new school with Harini too,” he said. “Who will teach me how to speak in English at home now?” he asked, upset that Harini was leaving them. Harini looked at her father in the car seat next to her. “Papa, can Jeevan go with us? I can teach him at my new school in my free time. Can he stay with me in the hostel?” she asked. Harini’s father looked at her, with a smile on his face. He put his arm around her shoulder, and said, “One day, when you are older, you can come back home and take him with you. For now, you must invest in yourself so that you can take his responsibility later.”

The New School


Harini did not understand her father. She was quiet. So Vishwajeet uncle tried again, “Okay, let me ask you something. Can you take care of Jeevan all by yourself at the hostel?” “No Papa,” Harini replied. “So, that means you need more help if you want to take care of him right now, isn’t it?” he asked. Harini nodded her head. “When you finish your studies, can you take care of yourself all alone?” he asked. “Yes Papa. But I don’t know if I can immediately take care of myself even after I finish my studies,” she said. “So you are saying that you are unable to take responsibility for another person now. You want to, but you must invest in yourself to make yourself independent. Then you can teach Jeevan also,” he said. Harini realized her father was trying to help her first become independent herself. She hugged him. “I promise Papa, I will stand on my own feet before I start teaching Jeevan,” she said.

The New School


“Then I also promise. Mummy and I will teach him English while you are gone. Once you have learnt it very well in your new school, you can take over. Is that okay?” he asked. “Yes Papa! I’ll learn it so well, I’ll beat you and Mummy at it. Then I can teach Jeevan, isn’t it?” Harini’s father hugged her. His brother pulled at Jeevan’s sleeve, asking him to get down from the car. “Come back soon, Harini didi,” Jeevan said, after hearing them speak. He quickly got down to follow the two year old, who was already running full speed across the garden towards the jasmine tree. The flowers were in full bloom, and they were going to shake the bark of the tree till the flowers fell on them. It was spring time again.

***

The Two New Restaurants in Town


“To get what you want, you have to deserve what you want. The world is not yet a crazy enough

place to reward a whole bunch of undeserving people.”

~ Charlie Munger

***

The Two New Restaurants in Town It was a winter morning in Lucknow. Mohan and Gopal had come to this town a year ago. They were originally from Bikaner. Mohan’s parents were still living in Bikaner, and he was ready to ask them to move to Lucknow. Gopal, on the other hand, was not quite settled in his work. His parents were also in Bikaner, but he was unable to ask them to shift. As it is, he thought he should do that only after he heard Mohan speak about it this morning. Both Mohan and Gopal had set up separate branches of the same restaurant after coming to Lucknow. They were cousins and it had been their dream to open a restaurant together.



Being ambitious, they had decided to set up two branches right at the beginning. Their restaurants were located a few meters apart from each other on the same road near two busy bus stops, where they served breakfast like hot poha, idli and dosa, upma and bread and omelette to early morning travellers and others. As they walked together on this winter morning towards their restaurants, Mohan talked to Gopal about convincing his parents to move to Lucknow from Bikaner. For a year now, he had got up every morning at 4.00 am to prepare the items needed for making the food himself and take them to the restaurant. Gopal, on the other hand, did not feel the need to do so. He had told Mohan he would employ someone to do the early morning preparations and would join him at 6.00 am to leave for their restaurants. They both lived together in the same apartment. At the restaurant, Gopal had three other people working for him. Gopal would tell them what to do, and go over to Mohan’s to watch TV that Mohan had installed for his co-workers when they took a break. Gopal would head to his branch only at noon, when at Mohan’s branch, everyone would finish their work and go



for a small break. They would then return and prepare evening snacks for their customers. Mohan had set up this routine with much difficulty. He had worked hard and had found people to work with who were diligent and sincere. He was grateful to have made a team after many months of investment in people who were honest, friendly and did their jobs well. He would try and send people to Gopal’s branch as well, but nobody stayed at that restaurant for long. Gopal was not as sincere as Mohan. He was lazy, and would usually think of leaving work onto others. If they could not finish it, he would leave it to them to finish it the next day. Thus, at Gopal’s restaurant, everyone was over-worked, even though they were making less quantities of food than at Mohan’s restaurant. Gopal had trouble finding people to work for him, and he always had to ask Mohan to help him. Mohan was a firm, sometimes strict but kind person. He would ensure that his restaurant prepared all the food items well before people started arriving early morning. He spoke to everyone who came to eat there and assured his snacks were healthy and nutritious, and that they tasted good.



He also shared a good relationship with his co-workers and always discussed everything with them about running the restaurant. He would not only feed the animals around his compound, he would also carefully plan how much to cook every day, so that there was minimal wastage of food. All these qualities had helped him achieve his dream of putting up a restaurant and running it well enough to start earning profits from it. That he had managed to start earning well from it in the very first year was by no means a small feat. But he was worried for his cousin brother. In contrast, Gopal would sometimes disappear from his restaurant even in the evenings to entertain himself with people from the neighbourhood, who he called his ‘new brothers’. He left it upon his workers to run the place by themselves. When they would not show up for work, he would complain to Mohan and get irritated with them. He would always tell Mohan to not make his workers get used to him at the restaurant, after all, they had to set up more places as early as possible. Whatever extra money Gopal made, he spent on his evening outings with the people in his colony. Mohan tried to tell him to spend less on going out, if he wanted to invest in opening more branches. But Gopal was sure he could make more money to do so. He would



talk to Mohan about earning lakhs of rupees from their branches, and then looking for new locations in the town. When Mohan told him he wanted his parents to move to Lucknow, Gopal did not know how to react. It was too soon for him. He asked Mohan how he would support them also in Lucknow. “I have made a decent profit in this one year,” Mohan said. “I think, in some time, I can ask my parents to consider shifting to Lucknow.” “But isn’t it too soon?” Gopal asked. “How much profit have you made? I cannot afford to bring my parents here. I have barely earned any money this year. Isn’t it early for a business to start earning profits?” “Well Gopal,” Mohan said, “I have managed to save a bit. I can now shift into a bigger house as well. What are you planning to do?” “I have no plans to shift my family here yet! And I cannot afford a bigger place! How will I pay rent for this place alone?” he said, getting angry with Mohan. “Of course, Gopal, I won’t shift till you can earn some more money,” Mohan replied while keeping his hand on Gopal’s shoulder.



“You go! You only think about yourself! I’ll manage on my own,” Gopal said, and left the house in a fit of rage. Mohan tried to call him, but he refused to pick up his phone. When Gopal returned late at night, he asked Mohan to pack his bags and leave. Mohan left the house and shifted to a friend’s place. He kept trying to talk to Gopal, but Gopal would not talk to him. Slowly, Mohan gave up on trying to have a conversation with him. After two months, Gopal and Mohan became complete strangers for each other. Gopal’s new brothers who used to go out with him every day went to ask Mohan for work, and that is when he found out that Gopal had suffered a huge loss in his business in the last two months. Their families had also completely stopped talking to each other, so Mohan did not know that Gopal had shut his restaurant and had gone back to Bikaner. Mohan asked Gopal’s so called brothers why they did not stop him, or look for a way in which he could stay back. The brothers criticized Gopal and told Mohan that they did not like Gopal. He was a good-for-nothing fellow. Mohan turned them all out of his restaurant. He did not give any of them a job. Any person who said bad things about someone they called their brother could not be



trusted. He shut all doors on them and cried at night for Gopal. The world had helped his restaurant flourish and he had realized his dream in this new town. But the same world had punished Gopal for being irresponsible, careless and late in his work. Gopal had gone back to parents with a broken dream.

***

The Dora Doll Birthday Party


“Money, to some extent, sometimes lets you be in more

interesting environments. But it can’t change how many people

love you or how healthy you are.”

~ Warren Buffett

***


Lavanya was excited. She had just made friends at her new school, and she was going to her new best friend’s birthday party in a costume. Her new friends, and especially her new best friend, had so many dolls and clothes, Lavanya wished she had all of them too. She would keep telling her parents to buy her the things she saw at her friends’ homes. Her parents had a big car and had just bought a house too, just like her new friends. But her friends had more dolls, clothes and toys than she did. So, when she got invited to the birthday party, she looked forward to go there. It was going to be her first birthday party and she didn’t want her parents to say no and not let her go.



The theme for the party was Dora in India. Dora was her favourite doll in the whole world, and she would get a chance to dress up like her. So she insisted so much at home that she finally got what she wanted. Her mother called up her father and told him about the party. She put down the phone and sighed sadly at Lavanya. “Your father agreed, Lavanya,” said her mother. She wanted Lavanya to understand why they were not sure about letting her go for parties yet. Her father would also have to pay for her expensive gifts to her friend and her costume, which she would probably wear once and hang in her cupboard. Lavanya barely saw her mother’s face. She clapped her hands and danced in joy. She was so happy that she did not notice that her mother was sad. She wanted her mother to take her to the market immediately to buy a costume for the party. Once they were at the store, she wanted all the dresses she saw. At home, she cried that she had to choose from only three dresses her mother had got for her. It was after her dad gave her chocolates and promised that he would buy her more dresses that she finally chose one to wear. She quickly picked up the new Dora doll she had bought for



Sammy, short for Samridhi, her best friend, and ran to the car that her father was honking impatiently. This was going to be lots of fun. Sammy hugged Lavanya and pulled at her arm to introduce her to the other friends she had invited for the party. Disha was Sammy’s best friend from her colony. Manav was her best friend from Class 2 C. Lavanya did not know him. Both she and Sammy were in Class 2 D. Chelsea was the foreign student who had just joined their section. She was another of Sammy’s best friends who Sammy sat next to when she was not sitting next to Lavanya. Sammy had many best friends. Lavanya wished she too had as many good friends as Sammy. At the party, Lavanya went and sat on the sofa next to Disha and Chelsea. They were holding their mouths and laughing at something, pointing at her. Lavanya did not understand. She looked around herself to see if everything was okay. Just then, Sammy called out to her. She got up and went quickly to her. Sammy introduced her to Himanshu, who was her best cousin. He was older than both of Sammy and Lavanya. They sat around and started playing Dora doll games. There was a tattoo artist in the corner of the room who was painting tattoos on their arms. There was also a magician who was going to show magic tricks later. He was sitting and grinning at everyone. Lavanya wanted to throw a



party like this at her home too. Everything was so wonderful. Sammy’s mother was also dressed in a Dora costume. She was getting plates and plates of food for everyone to eat. There were pastries, muffins, jalebis, gulab jamuns, all Lavanya’s favourites. The plates and cups had Dora dolls drawn on them. Pooris, pakodas, and paneer tikkas were being served on the table. Everyone was having a great time. Lavanya wanted more pastries. She had just eaten two, a pineapple and a strawberry pastry. Now she wanted the chocolate pastry she saw Himanshu eating. She did not feel like getting up and asking Sammy’s mother for it. It was too much of an effort. So, she waited for Sammy’s mother, but aunty was so busy that she did not hear Lavanya calling out to her. Everyone was making a lot of noise, so Lavanya called out louder. Finally, she shouted at Sammy’s mother, telling her to give her one more pastry. Sammy’s mother was not very happy with Lavanya demanding a pastry. She shoved the pastry on her plate, irritated. “Eat, eat my child. You look so plump, like you belong to a very well to do family!” she said, pulling at Lavanya’s big cheeks. Chelsea and Disha laughed out loud. Disha was getting her tattoo done and Chelsea was standing next to her.



Disha finished her tattoo, jumped off her chair and came to where Lavanya was sitting. “Enjoying your pastries, Lavanya? See, I got a Dora doll tattooed on my wrist. What will you get? Shouldn’t she get a big hippopotamus done Chelsea? It’ll suit her,” she said while laughing out loud. “I also want a Dora doll tattoo. I have never had a tattoo done before,” Lavanya said. “Oh no! Dora doll would look too small on your wrist,” exclaimed Chelsea, “You should get something bigger done. You have such huge arms.” Lavanya looked at her arms, then at Chelsea’s arms. They looked smaller than hers. Chelsea was sniggering at her. She looked at Disha, who was laughing. They both left her sitting on the chair alone. “Come, Chelsea. Let’s go find Sammy. Bye Lavanya!” she said. They waved at her and went off to find Sammy. Lavanya looked at her pastry in her Dora doll plate. She wanted to eat it. But she couldn’t. She wanted her mother and father to come pick her up. She just wasn’t hungry anymore.

***

The Banana Tree


“Spend each day trying to be a little wiser than you were when

you woke up. Day by day, and at the end of the day – if you live

long enough – like most people, you will get out of life

what you deserve.” ~ Charlie Munger

***

The Banana Tree

Sreenath was lying on his couch in the living room. It was hot and he had just finished a meal of rice and curd. He was sweating. He wanted to put the fan on but was feeling lazy. So, he kept lying down, wishing someone would put it on. Today was a holiday from school and he did not want to get up at all. Ten minutes went past. Sreenath could not go off to sleep. But he would not get up either. He did not even toss and turn due to the heat. He just lay still, wondering when the fan would start.

The Banana Tree


Just then, Sreenath’s mother came into the room. “Sreenath, go off to your room to sleep. Some guests are coming.” “No mummy. Tell them to come tomorrow. I don't want to get up,” he said. Sreenath’s mother looked at her son in disbelief. She was used to his laziness but today was too much. “You expect me to tell Veena aunty and my other friends to not come to the house because you are sleeping on the sofa? Have you gone crazy or this is a new height of laziness you have managed to conquer?” she asked in bewilderment. “Go away, mummy. Don't bother me,” he said. A fly came and sat on his shoulder. Sreenath looked at it and closed his eyes again. Sreenath’s mother exclaimed in exasperation, “What a lazy fellow! He will not even wave the fly off if it sits on him. Next, he will want a banana to fall in his mouth by itself. Too much effort, he will complain, to go buy one from the market.” Sreenath heard his mother mumble under her breath as she gave up on him. Soon, all went quiet. He opened one eye to see if she was still there. He said to himself, “Seems like a good idea. Next time I want to eat a banana, I will sit

The Banana Tree


under the banana tree outside the house. Who will walk all the way to the market?” Saying this, he dozed off for a few minutes. In his dream, he saw a ripe, yellow banana on the doorstep of his house. Just when he was about to ask his mother to give it to him, he woke up, only to find his mother standing on his head. Veena aunty was standing behind her with her friends. They were all staring at him. He was about to close his eyes again when Veena aunty said, “Get up Sreenath! Get dressed and get us some buttermilk from the market.” Sreenath got up slowly, groaning. He wanted to sleep some more. His mother shoved some notes in his hands. Sreenath did not want to go. Then he suddenly remembered the banana he wanted. “Okay aunty. I’ll go at once,” he said happily. Veena aunty looked at him suspiciously. Sreenath grinned and disappeared from the front door. He quickly went and sat down in front of the banana tree just outside their verandah. He looked up at the banana flower stem hanging from the tree. “I’ll wait. The bananas look ripe. They can fall anytime. Meanwhile, I’ll close my eyes and rest a little,” he said to himself. An hour went past. Sreenath woke up and looked around himself. No bananas had fallen yet. “That’s okay. I am sure they will fall in no time now,” he said to himself.

The Banana Tree


By now, it was 4.30 pm. Sreenath kept looking up at the bananas. “When would they fall?” he thought. There were so many of them. “It can happen any minute,” he convinced himself, so he waited some more. And waited. By the time it was almost dark, Sreenath could hardly see the bananas. He wondered if they fell at night. He was very hungry. But he was not tall enough to reach the bananas. So, he kept sitting. The bananas refused to fall. By 7.00 pm, his stomach was on fire. He had eaten nothing since lunch. He could not sit any longer. He got up and went inside the house. Veena aunty, her friends and his mother were all drinking tea. Sreenath had completely forgotten they were at home. “What Sreenath! You take this long to get buttermilk, is it?” his mother asked. Sreenath was so hungry he did not even hear her. “Please give me something to eat, mother! I am very hungry.” Sreenath’s mother heard his voice and quickly gave him a banana from the kitchen. “Here…eat this,” she said. Sreenath gobbled the banana up. “Where is this banana from, mummy? Is it from the banana tree?” he asked. “No, it’s from the market. The bananas on the tree outside are not fully ripe yet,” she said.

The Banana Tree


Sreenath went quiet. He thought for some time. Veena aunty was looking at his face. “What happened son?” she asked. “Nothing, Veena aunty. I have realized that I am very lazy. I will not be so anymore. I’ll go and get your buttermilk from the market right away. Can I have one more banana mother? I’ll get some more from the market,” he said. Sreenath’s mother gave him another banana. He peeled it and ate it slowly. Then he waved at them. “I’ll be off now. See you!” he said, disappearing once again at the door. The two women and their friends looked at the door and then at each other curiously. They smiled and shook their heads, and started chatting again. Sreenath came back in half an hour from the market. He entertained his mother and her friends with some of his jokes. When they left, he wished his mother good night and asked her to wake him up early in the morning. “But it’s Sunday tomorrow,” her mother said, “And you always sleep late on Sunday.” “Just wake me up, mummy,” Sreenath said. “I have work to do,” and went off to sleep. That night, he dreamt of dozens of yellow, ripe bananas falling from the banana tree outside his verandah and flooding his house. He woke up and sat up straight in his bed, hungry. He saw the time

The Banana Tree


on the wall clock. It was 5.00 am. He had woken up before his mother got up in the morning every day. He left his bed and found two bananas in the fruit bowl in the kitchen. He sat at the dining table and ate them slowly.

***

The New Video Game


“Chains of habit are too light to be felt until they are too heavy

to be broken.” ~ Warren Buffett

***

The New Video Game

Raju came back from school and flung his bag on the chair. “Ma, am home. Food!” he yelled. He took off his shoes and socks in a hurry and ran at top speed to his room. He couldn’t wait to play the new video game his father had got him. His mother ran after him, matching his speed. “Wait Raju! Where do you think you are going? I’m not giving you food in your room. Come here at once!” She caught him by his shirt which was half out of his shorts already. Raju was not only running, he was also taking off his uniform simultaneously to save time. He was that efficient when he wanted to play new games. Not only could he play them day and night, he could also eat his food, do his homework, though not so well, and listen to his parents’ conversations about him, all while

The New Video Game


playing a video game. When his father and mother decided to not get him any more games, he screamed and cried for hours. They finally gave up and got him a new one. Raju knew he had to play each game fast to get a new game. He had never lost a game once he learnt how to play it. This was also the reason he got bored quickly. His mother tried every day to tell him to do other things, like read his books, go out and play with other friends, learn his music which he was so fond of. But Raju only wanted to play video games in his room. When his mother would scold him, he would stop for a while, go watch some TV or help her in the kitchen. But as soon as she was busy with her work, he got back to playing the games. Sometimes he would even play all night when everyone was sleeping, so that they would not tell him to stop. Things went on for a while like this. Raju’s parents did not know what to do with him anymore. Raju was just managing to pass all his subjects at school. After a while, his parents stopped bothering about his habit. They got so used to him playing daily after school that they let him be.

The New Video Game


Apart from spending so much time on this one activity, he was doing fine, they thought. He did his homework and he joked around and made everyone laugh. He seemed to be able to manage well enough. One day, as usual, Raju was playing in his room. He heard his mother talking to someone on the phone. He could not hear her properly and he thought she took his name once or twice. So, he went out to see who she was talking to. Raju’s mother had just put the phone down. She looked not quite like herself, so Raju went up to her. “What happened, mother?” he asked. “Nothing. Let your father come home,” she said. “We’ll talk about it. Go to your room now.” Raju hesitated, but hearing his mother’s tone, he kept quiet and left for his room. He waited for his father to come. In the evening, when his father got home, Raju was still playing in his room. He heard his mother crying. He couldn’t hear his father at all. Just some words here and there. ‘Raju’, ‘school’, ‘teacher’ he could figure out, but nothing else. He got a little scared. What was happening?

The New Video Game


Raju’s mother came to the room. “Come Raju, your father is here,” she said. He looked at his mother’s face. She had been crying. “What happened, mother?” he asked, once again. “Come out first, Raju. Let’s sit in the living room,” she said. Raju was worried and scared by now. He did not know why his mother was behaving this way. Raju’s father looked calm, so Raju got a little confidence and asked him, “Why is mother crying, Papa?” Raju’s father took him in his arms. “It’s okay, Raju. Your mother is upset. You have failed in one subject in your term exams this time. Your teacher called in the afternoon to tell your mother,” he said. Raju did not know how to react. He saw his mother’s face, and burst out crying. His father hugged him. He cried so much that he was exhausted in sometime. He had never failed in any of his exams, ever. He did not know how he did not pass this time. All he knew was that he had only studied while he was playing his games in his room. He had never studied apart from when he was playing a new game. He could not talk to his parents anymore. He needed to go to sleep. He went off to his room, switched off the new

The New Video Game


video game his father had got him, and crashed on his bed. He slept soundly for hours till morning. This was the first time he had switched off his video game because he did not want to play it anymore.

***

The Earth Revolves Around the Sun


“I believe in the discipline of mastering the best that other people have ever figured out.

I don’t believe in just sitting down and trying to dream it all up

yourself. Nobody’s that smart.” ~ Charlie Munger

***

The Earth Revolves Around the Sun “Oh, I forgot my Science school book!” Shanti told her bench mate, Nirupama. “How could you?” asked Nirupama. “I prepared for Tuesday’s time table, instead of Wednesday’s. I am so lost sometimes,” Shanti said. Just then, their Science teacher, Gita Ma’am came into class. She wished everyone and then started with the lesson explaining the solar system. She drew a few round shapes on the board. Then she turned to the class. Her eyes fell on Shanti.



“Shanti, does the Earth go around the Sun?” she asked. Shanti said yes. Then her teacher asked her to open her book and point towards Earth and Sun in the solar system. Shanti immediately told her that she hadn’t brought the book to school. She apologized for it. The teacher asked Shanti, “Why? What happened?” Shanti told her that she had arranged her bag as per Tuesday’s time table when there was no science class. And today was Wednesday. “That’s okay, Shanti, sit down,” Gita ma’am said. “Just look at these circles I have drawn on the board. If these were the planets in the solar system, which would be Earth? And which would be the Sun?” “Ummm hmmm. I don’t know Ma’am,” Shanti replied. The teacher asked her if she had forgotten what she had read in class. Shanti replied she had not. She remembered that Earth revolved around the Sun. But she was not sure if she could say it with absolute certainty anymore. Everyone in class started talking all at once. Nirupama tugged at Shanti’s hand and said, “What are you saying? Keep quiet.” Gita ma’am asked, “Why do you say that, Shanti?”



“Ma’am, I have never made a mistake in arranging my bag. My mother left it on me when I had just started coming to school. But today, I made a mistake for the very first time because I forgot which day of the week it was. I can’t see a Tuesday or a Wednesday anywhere. If the days of the week cannot be seen, I can only depend on something like a calendar to tell me what day of the week it was. Similarly, Earth cannot be seen too because we are living on it. How could we be so sure it is revolving around the Sun?” she asked. The whole class went silent. So, her teacher asked, “How was it that India was able to send more than 100 satellites into space recently?” “Through a satellite launcher,” Shanti replied. “So why was it called successful, Shanti?” “Because they were put in the positions they were supposed to be put in?” Shanti replied, though she was not confident this time. “That’s correct, Shanti,” said her teacher. “But has anyone ever put so many satellites in space before?” “No ma’am,” Shanti replied. “This is the first time.”



“So, would they have known the correct position of the Earth from previous journeys into space to have successfully put so many satellites around it?” Gita Ma’am asked. Shanti murmured, “Yes ma’am!” She was realizing what her teacher was trying to say to her. Gita Ma’am asked her, “If the launch was successful, then can we believe that scientists have also made a correct assessment of the position of the Earth and the Sun?” Shanti again said, “Yes ma’am!”. She had realized if the scientists who launched the satellites hadn't known the correct positions of the Sun and the Earth and the other planets in our solar system very well, they would not have been able to achieve the success they had. Gita Ma’am finally said, “You see Shanti, a lot of work has already been done. And based on that, we are further able to make successful trips into space. Especially some parts of our solar system. Some things have been perfected by other scientists that need to be utilized to explore and discover space and its wonders further. And that is why India could make a world record satellite launch because it did exactly that. We should master what has already been perfected by learning from those who have done the hard work and shared their knowledge with us. We



should not isolate ourselves and start dreaming of doing things all by ourselves without any help.” “Yes Ma’am,” Shanti said. “Thank you so much, Ma’am!” The bell rang. The class got over. Shanti and her friends ran outside to the school ground for their sports period. Gita Ma’am left the class and went to the staff room. She told her colleagues about her discussion with Shanti. All the teachers congratulated Gita Ma’am. “Congratulations Ma’am!” said the History teacher. “You have an excellent Science student in your class. You must be proud of her.” “Thank you, Sir!” said Gita Ma’am. “I wish you an excellent History student too.” “So be it, Ma’am!” said the History teacher. “Our country is in good hands if our children ask us questions and think with their curious minds.” “Yes Sir. I agree,” said Gita Ma’am. Meanwhile, Shanti had quietly slipped away from her sports class and returned to her classroom. She stood in front of the circles Gita Ma’am had drawn on the board. She could not take her eyes off them. She must remember to read her book on the positions of the stars again, she



thought to herself. She wanted to understand how a rocket was launched in space, and she needed all the knowledge in her Science book to help her make her next project.

***

My Dad’s Hero


“You’re lucky in life if you have the right heroes.

To the extent that you can, pick out a few heroes. There’s nothing

like the right ones. ~ Warren Buffett

***

My Dad’s Hero

“What is the time?” Mansa asked. She was waiting for her Dad to pick her up from school. “It’s time to leave,” said Hitesh. He zipped up his tennis racket, and tossed the ball in the air, repeatedly. “I know that. I’m asking you what does the watch say?” she asked, indignantly. “How does it matter?” he asked, his eyes on the ball in the air, hands ready to catch it as soon as it came down. “Oh Hitesh, you are so troublesome!” she said. “You are welcome,” he said.

My Dad’s Hero


Mansa was already quite impatient. She had been waiting for her father since an hour now. Even Hitesh had finished playing tennis, and he had an hour-long slot after her. Now he had nothing better to do but to tease her. She got angry with him. “Why don’t you go drink water or something? I am thirsty too, I could do with some cold water,” she said. “Hmmm. You could do with some cold water for your head too,” he said. He put his hand inside the front pocket of his backpack and took out a small statue from it. He walked up to Mansa. Mansa pretended she didn’t see him walking towards her. She didn’t want to talk to him. She was anxious, impatient, hungry, angry and tired all at once. Hitesh pulled her ponytail. “Mansa, see here. I’ve got something for you.” “What now?” she said, pushing him away. “Look!”, he said, and thrust the statue under her nose. Mansa had to see what he was holding in his hand. It was a small white statue. If she wasn’t mistaken, it was a small idol of Gautam Buddha. She had seen pictures and read about him in her Class VIII textbook.

My Dad’s Hero


She took it from him. “Thank you! Is it Gautam Buddha?” she asked. Hitesh laughed, “Why do you call him by his full name? He is known simply as the Buddha.” “How do you know?” Mansa snapped back. “My Dad gave me one to keep on my bedside when I was six,” Hitesh said, “I have had his statue there for a long time now.” “Oh, can you tell me something about him?” Mansa asked. “I don’t know anything about him.” “Well, I’ll tell you a story my Dad told me once. About him and the Buddha,” he said. “Your Dad met the Buddha?” she asked, mocking him. “How could he meet him? The Buddha lived more than 2000 years ago. My Dad was given a statue of Buddha by his friend, Varun uncle,” Hitesh said. “Oh, why?” Mansa asked. “It’s a long story, but let me still tell you. My Dad and Varun uncle often used to go for bus rides around the town. My Dad was always naughty. He would pull pranks at the bus drivers and give them a scare. He used to earlier

My Dad’s Hero


go for bus rides with Sujit uncle before Varun uncle started going with him.” “Tell me more!” Mansa said. “Why did they pull pranks on the drivers?” “Sujit uncle was my Dad’s next door neighbour. He was older than my Dad and used to be very good at playing hockey. My Dad could never beat him at scoring goals and always admired him. Sujit uncle would shove the conductors out of the buses when they would be standing at the door and laugh when they ran to catch the moving buses. “He would literally shout while singing at the top of his voice and drum the windows of the buses loudly till the passengers would be irritated with him. Seeing the antics of Sujit uncle, my Dad would also pull pranks on the bus drivers. He liked to irritate people when they were doing something to disturb them. He used to laugh when they would get angry,” Hitesh said. “Oh, maybe your Dad meant it as a joke?” Mansa asked. “Yes, he used to enjoy cracking such jokes on people. Anyways, so Sujit uncle left and went to a bigger colony when his parents shifted. After that, Varun uncle joined my Dad for the bus rides. Varun uncle was my Dad’s friend in class. My Dad used to talk to everyone a lot, and

My Dad’s Hero


Varun uncle became his friend and started meeting him after school. So, Dad took him to play his pranks along with him. He would disturb the driver in one bus every weekend when they used to go from Kalyan to Thane. They used to travel to enjoy themselves. The bus driver and conductor knew him and Varun Uncle, and they would shudder whenever my Dad boarded the bus. My Dad would enjoy the attention he would get in the bus. Everybody would keep telling him to stop creating mischief. But the more they would tell him, the more he would do so.” “Then?” asked Mansa. “Well, one day, my Dad carried a lizard in a glass jar in his backpack. He asked Varun uncle to hold his backpack while he went and said hello to the bus driver. Varun uncle was shy and quiet, unlike my Dad. He used to fear my Dad but listened to him and obeyed him as well. So, he sat quietly in the seat just behind the bus driver while my Dad went up to him. “While going, he asked Varun uncle to hand him the glass jar from the backpack as soon as he was near the driver. Varun uncle opened the backpack, and without looking at the jar, he gave it to my Dad. My Dad took the lizard out of the jar and put it on the driver’s shoulder.”

My Dad’s Hero


“What? Hahahahaha! It sounds scary, but it must have been quite funny, right?” asked Mansa. “It was scary for sure,” Hitesh continued. “The bus driver panicked and let go of the steering wheel. The bus swerved off the road and the conductor fell out of the moving bus. All the passengers were thrown to one side of the bus.” “Oh no! Were they fine?” Mansa asked anxiously. “Sadly, no. The bus was controlled in a matter of seconds by the driver, who realized what had happened. But by that time, the conductor who had fallen out had broken his arm. And Varun uncle received several bruises, including one on his nose. All the passengers were hurt too.” “And your Dad?” Mansa asked. “Surprisingly, my Dad left the bus without a scratch. He got down and looked around, as if nothing had happened. He even forgot his friend Varun uncle was still in the bus.” “How could he do that?” Mansa asked. “My Dad told me he did not know how to react to the whole incident. He didn’t feel anything. He didn’t know what to do except leave the bus and go home. He didn’t talk to anyone about it at home. The next weekend, he

My Dad’s Hero


called Varun uncle’s home to tell him to meet him at the bus stop again. Varun uncle was not at home when he called. So he waited for him to call back. When Varun uncle did not call back till evening, my Dad called him again. Varun uncle’s mother picked up the phone and told my Dad not to call up again.” “Why?” Mansa asked. “Well, my Dad did not know, and was very angry at Varun uncle for not talking to him. So, he went to his house to ask him what was wrong with him. Varun uncle met him, but did not say a word. “Instead, he gave him a Buddha statue. And went back inside the house from the garden they were sitting in.” “A Buddha statue? Why did he do that?” Mansa asked. “He told my Dad before he went inside his house that Buddha was his hero. And he wanted to share his hero’s statue with my Dad. That was his parting gift. He never met my Dad after that. Not until today.” “But why was Buddha Varun uncle’s hero?” asked Mansa. “Well, Varun uncle heard a story from his Dad about Buddha and his Dad. I won’t tell you that story now, but basically, his Dad told him that Buddha was a

My Dad’s Hero


compassionate man. And that he forgave himself, and others easily. So his Dad admired the Buddha and chose him as his hero. He told Varun uncle to find his own reason for liking someone, so long as it brought happiness and peace to himself and others. He also told him to find his own meaning in Buddha.” “Okay. But why are you giving me Buddha’s statue?” Mansa asked, feeling scared and happy at the same time, for some reason. “Oh, I am not giving it to you as a parting gift,” Hitesh replied. “Varun uncle got this for me. I already have one so I thought I would give it to you. “You see, Buddha is my hero too. And I wanted to share my hero’s statue with you.” Mansa did not know what to say. All she did was thank Hitesh, and hurry off to her father, who had finally come to pick her up. She gripped the statue tightly in her hand. For some reason, she felt like smiling.

My Dad’s Hero


“She put the statue on the dashboard of the car. Then she told her Dad the story of Hitesh’s Dad, and Varun uncle’s hero. This was how Mansa was lucky enough to find one of her few heroes. Hope you find yours too.

***

The Bungalow on the Corner of the Street


“Envy is a really stupid sin because it’s the only one you could

never possibly have any fun at. There’s a lot of pain

and no fun.” ~ Charlie Munger

***


Mr. Tripathi moved in with his family to Chembur when he shifted to Bombay. He rented out a small apartment in the corner of the street in his colony. Though his was a family of four – him, his wife, his mother and Rohan, his son – he had to take up a small place for all of them. Having just moved to a big city from Allahabad, Mr. Tripathi could not afford a big house. After settling in, he started going for his new job every day. Rohan was a small boy of thirteen when he joined White Spring School in his new colony. He made many friends in school, and they all used to go to his house to play in the afternoon after school. Mrs. Tripathi used to give them hot snacks and cool drinks while they played. Mr. Tripathi would return from work and the boys would still be



playing at home. Rohan’s mother was the only person who could tell the boys to go back home and come back the next day. Mr. Tripathi was an honest man. He was hard-working and got promotions in no time at his workplace. Soon, the family decided to shift to a bigger house. They needed the space for their family, and another child was on the way. All the neighbours came for the party he threw when he shifted to a new house. They congratulated Mrs. and Mr. Tripathi, had a feast that lasted till midnight. Then they all went home, tired but satisfied with the food and drinks that were served. On the way, while walking home, Mrs. Gulati asked Mrs. Sharma, “Did you see the new sofa Mrs. Tripathi got for her drawing room? It was very comfortable, no? You could sink in it.” “Yes, I was admiring it too, replied Mrs. Sharma. “It was nice and velvety. I’ll get one for our home too.” Mr. Sharma was quiet all this while. He and his wife turned to their lane and waved goodbye to all of them. After some time, he asked his wife, “Where will we get the money to get a sofa like that? Why did you say that to Mrs. Gulati?” he snapped angrily.



“Why can’t we get one?” asked Mrs. Sharma. “You’ll also get promoted. Then we can take up that bungalow on the corner of the street which is empty. And I’ll have a bigger sofa set that I can put in my drawing room in that house.” “What will we do with a bigger house?” said Mr. Sharma. “Mr. Tripathi has a family, and another child is on the way. Let us think of one when we have a bigger family. Okay? But tell me, the food was good no?” But Mrs. Sharma was not thinking about the food. “Do you think Mrs. Tripathi moved into that new apartment because she wanted to have more space for her family?” she asked. “You are so innocent, sometimes, Rajeev. She called us to show off her sofa, her shiny new kitchen, her sari. Did you see her jewellery? They haven’t just bought a new house.” “Oh, can you stop it now? This is irritating,” Mr. Sharma said. Mrs. Sharma kept muttering under her breath while winding up the house. Mr. Sharma shut his ears and went off to sleep. Some months passed by. Mrs. Sharma had forgotten about the velvet sofa. She was making food in the kitchen for the evening when her son, Harsh, came running inside. “Mummy…mummy, Rohan has bought the bungalow on



the corner of the street! Tripathi uncle just came home and told aunty and Rohan. They took us all to see the house, Mummy! It’s big! And Rohan’s room is so big, Mummy. I also want a room like his.” Mrs. Sharma called up Mrs. Gulati immediately. They started criticizing Mrs. Tripathi for showing off her new bungalow as soon as they bought it. Very soon, some of the neighbourhood women had gathered in Mrs. Tripathi’s new home. Mrs. Gulati and Mrs. Sharma went too. They praised the house and asked Mrs. Tripathi what furniture she would put there. Mrs. Tripathi was happy. She talked to them excitedly about her plans. Mrs. Gulati and Mrs. Sharma listened, ooh-ing and aah-ing whenever she mentioned a sofa, a new TV set, new crockery sets, and when she promised to throw her party in her new sets, they were very pleased and thanked her. They stayed for a while and came back to Mrs. Sharma’s home. “Just wait till I tell Mr. Gulati this news, “said Mrs. Gulati. “He will be green with envy. He had his eye on the bungalow for a long time now.” “Oh, really?” said Mrs. Sharma. “Well, now Mrs. Tripathi has it.”



“It’s not Mrs. Tripathi’s house. Mr. Tripathi bought it,” snapped Mrs. Gulati. “Wonder where Mr. Tripathi is getting all the money from? He can’t be getting so much money for his promotions?” Mrs. Sharma said. Harsh was listening to his mother and Mrs. Gulati. He quietly slipped out of the room where the two women went on bickering about the house. He went to Rohan’s house, asked if he could meet Rohan, and they went to buy lemon drinks at the shop that was next to the bungalow. Rohan couldn’t understand why Harsh was so quiet. He usually talked nineteen to a dozen. Rohan asked him to say something. Harsh tried to cheer up, said a few things, then casually wished him good bye. He went back home and found his father watching TV. He sat next to his father and asked him, “Papa, why has Tripathi uncle bought a new house?” “Maybe because he needed it and had the money to buy it, Harsh. His company won an award recently and they promoted Mr. Tripathi for it,” he said. “What did Tripathi uncle do, Papa?” asked Harsh.



“He worked very hard and got them a deal that has generated a huge profit for them,” Mr. Sharma told his son. He grimaced. He could not bear to think what his son would ask him next. Why he couldn’t earn that much money, maybe? Harsh was thinking. “I know Papa, I’ll also get rich like Tripathi uncle one day. Then Mummy will be happy,” he said, gleefully, and ran off. Mr. Sharma turned back to the TV. He was worried. For the first time in his life, his son and wife were talking about earning more money, and he had no answers to give them. He knew there was something wrong, that they were all feeling envious of Mr. Tripathi’s family, but he did not know how to tell his family not to want what they had. Maybe he could ask them to want their own house. Not Mr. Tripathi’s. He sat thinking. In his room, Harsh was trying to think how much money Tripathi uncle would have paid for the bungalow. He did not know, so he thought he would ask Rohan. But he was feeling uncomfortable about asking him. He did not know why. Winding up the house, Mrs. Tripathi was grumbling about how her crockery was getting old. She wanted new plates



and spoons, the new set she had seen in the market. She was angry, and she did not know why. The whole Sharma household could not sleep properly that night. None of them knew why.

***

The Syrup Ice-Cream Man

73

“Price is what you pay. Value is what you get.”

~ Warren Buffett

***


I was trying to sleep off in my cot. My father was ready to leave, tucking me in for the night. “I cannot sleep, Papa. Tell me another story,” I said, not wanting him to leave. My Dad stopped and sat down again. He quickly flipped through his book again. “What are you thinking, Papa?” I asked. “Nothing…nothing son. Would you play with this till I read?” he said, handing me my Rubik’s cube. “No Papa! I don’t want to play with the Rubik’s cube. Let’s go to the mall. I want an ice-cream.” “Now Keshav? We can go tomorrow to the mall. It’s your bed time,” my Dad told me. Then he closed his book and


74

asked, “Okay wait. Let me tell you a story about myself. Would you like to hear it?” “Oh yes, Papa!” I said, excitedly. He started. “A few years ago, when you were in the school down the road and I used to work from home, remember, I used to come pick you up every day in the afternoon when your school got over?” “I remember Papa. Then we used to have those syrup ice-creams outside the school from the cart vendor.” “That’s right, Keshav. And do you remember, your friends Vibhu and Pari used to join us too? And fight with you if they finished their ice-creams before you for yours?” he asked, smiling. “Oh yes, Papa! Vibhu still fights with me at my new school for the tiffin,” I said. “And I can no longer come and pick you up from your new school,” my father said. “It’s too far for me. And do you remember Pari?” he asked. “Yes Papa. I remember her now! But it’s been so long since I met her.”


75

“You know how much I used to pay for all our syrup ice-creams?” he asked. “Twenty rupees for the four of us. And that too, almost every other day.” “That’s it, Papa?” I asked. “Yes! And now, the last time we went to the mall, just you and me and Mummy, I paid three hundred rupees. Imagine if Vibhu and Pari came with us. I would have to pay five hundred rupees, just for ice-creams.” “Ice-cream has gotten so expensive, Papa?” I asked. I was shocked. “Yes! And this was just three years ago. Now, to be able to go to the mall to buy ice-cream, I have to have a full-time job. I cannot meet your friends anymore either,” he exclaimed. “Yes Papa! And there is no ice-cream cart vendor outside our school either so that we can all have ice-cream there with Vibhu and my new friends,” I said. “Why do you think we don’t have ice-cream every day now, son?” my father asked me. I thought for while. “Is it because it’s too expensive now, Papa?” I asked. “And also because you cannot pick me up from school every day?”


76

“That’s right, son. And you know what else? Not only can we not afford ice-cream at the mall every other day, we also cannot meet and talk for a while with each other the way we used to in the afternoon. “Also, Pari and Vibhu can no longer join us as easily as they could then. The vendor was just outside your school and the mall is far from all our homes. In short, the price I paid for four syrup ice-creams three years ago fetched me not just good company, it also gave me a walk to stretch my legs and was lighter on the stomach. “You know what I get now for paying twenty times more?” he asked me. “No…what Papa?” I was very curious. “No walk every day, because we go in a car. We cannot afford it every day, so our outings are limited. The good company of people is now limited to only my family, I do not have friends or your friends who can easily join me. “Plus, now I can have ice-cream only occasionally because it is heavier than the syrup ice-creams,” he said. “But Papa, why do we have to pay so much for lesser things?” “That’s just the way it is, son. But remember, you must find the value in the price you pay. If something is giving


77

you so much, you can spend money on it without having to think about it too much. “But when the price you are paying is barely fetching you a thing or two, thick twice about spending your money. That’s the story I wanted to tell you about myself. And how I learnt to spend less money on things that give me almost no value for money.” “Okay Papa! I’ll have to think a lot about what you said.” My Dad tucked me in bed again, smiling at me. “Get up in the morning and do that. For now, sleep tight. Good night!” he said. “Good night, Papa!” I said, and went off to sleep.

***


Hello friend! Keshav here. How are you doing today? The journey so far had been troublesome for me. I heard a story every night for eleven days, and then, I forgot them when my Dad took a break from storytelling, to travel. He had to go to a meeting outside Bangalore. I didn't forget them on purpose. Neither did I forget the gist of the stories themselves, in fact, the stories themselves stay with me. I forgot the names of the people in the stories. Am still wondering. How did that happen to me? The few days that Dad spent with me while telling me stories, I was delighted. We had not spent time with each other this way ever, and I was missing him even more this time. So I called him one night and asked him to tell me a story on the phone. He asked me to collect all the stories he had told me, which we had talked about as well. I will share my experiences with you of these stories and my conversations with Dad as well. But first things first, how did you find the brief but witty and wise descriptions of life, in a capsule, by Mr. Buffett and Mr. Munger? Do write in and tell me your experiences with the stories.


Let’s go on with some more stories now. It’s my collection of stories after my Dad came back from his trip. You will sometimes find stories of the same people we met earlier. At other times, there will be entirely new people meeting you today, tomorrow or whenever you read the stories next. When I heard my Dad telling me more about the people he had introduced to me, I was intrigued. So the story had not ended for them. I guess that is the way life is. We live, and we keep learning. Best, Keshav


Index of Stories – Part II 12. The Fellowship for Physics 81 13. The Missing Dora Dolls 84 14. The Boy Who Sold the Red Fort 88 15. The Red Shoes 92 16. The Castle of Lies 96 17. When Dreams are Unlimited 99 18. Rolling the Dice 106 19. The Food Stall 110 20. The Pencil Sharpener 113 21. The Pond 119 22. A Very Successful Habit 122

The Fellowship for Physics


“Someone’s sitting in the shade today because someone planted a

tree a long time ago.” ~ Warren Buffett

***


The Ramshankar Fellowship for Advanced Studies in Physics was being announced in the new school. The Old Delhi School had branched out four years ago, and the foundation of the new school had been laid in Mr. Ahuja’s colony. Only one person was supposed to be selected this year, the trustees of the Fellowship had made it clear that the winning application would be one that would stand out on all other applications. Even if there were two or three applicants in close competition, they would award the entire Fellowship grant to one person to ensure that there was no difficulty faced by the person in completing their studies. The Principal announced the Fellowship results with a short note of appreciation to the finest teacher of Physics in their school, Mr. Ramshankar, on whose name the



fellowship had been given to several students year after year for following their quest for knowledge in Physics. Mr. Ramshankar, as no one, but all knew, had left the school some five years ago. The grant had been a collective decision of the community of parents whose children were alumni of the school, and they funded the Fellowship, which had now been going on for four years. “This year, the Fellowship is awarded to Ms. Supriya, who has shown tremendous dedication, sincerity and love for the discipline,” the Principal told everyone present in the school auditorium. Supriya walked up towards the stage to collect her Fellowship prize. She saw her mother in the audience. “This fellowship has come to me, honouring me and my mother who, with difficulty in finances and time, as she is a working mother, helped me pursue my passion for Physics. Thank you everyone. I will do my best in this field. I have got the opportunity to study further without worrying about finances, it is like sitting in the shade of a big tree which has been planted by someone a long time ago. Thank you, once again!” she said, and went to her mother, sitting in the middle row on the right of the auditorium.



Raju’s father could not catch a glimpse of Supriya’s mother. But she seemed strangely familiar. Then he remembered. Could it be Divya? The journalist? He went up to the Principal and asked him, “Mr. Prabhakar, we could not meet the new Fellow’s parents. Are they here?” “No, Supriya’s mother has left with her daughter Mr. Ahuja” Mr. Prabhakar said. “May I know what is Supriya’s mother’s profession? She was speaking about financial difficulties,” asked Mr. Ahuja. “She was a journalist Mr. Ahuja. Her name is Mrs. Divya Gupta. Supriya’s father is no more. Mrs. Gupta started freelance writing some time ago,” Mr. Prabhakar said. Raju’s father thanked Mr. Prabhakar and left the auditorium. He went to his car and took off for home. He remembered where it had all started. Maybe it was time for Mr. Ramshankar to come back to Old Delhi. Maybe it was time to acknowledge the tree in person, under whose shade the entire colony was enjoying their new fruits of life.

***

The Missing Dora Dolls


“Risk comes from not knowing what you are doing.”

~ Warren Buffett

***


When Lavanya carried home her Dora Doll, she squeezed her eyes in the car so that she would not cry anymore. Her father was worried. He was trying to ask her questions about the party but she refused to reply. Finally, when the car stopped at home, her mother came out on the porch. Lavanya ran into her mother’s arms and burst out crying. “What happened?” asked Lavanya’s mother. “I never want to go to a Dora Doll party again!” Lavanya sobbed and ran into her house. She ran straight to her bed and cried all night, soaking her pillow with her tears. Puffy eyed and teary, she woke up in the morning refusing to eat breakfast. “Let her stay at home today,” she heard her mother tell her father.



Lavanya was grateful, but she could not have bothered to step out of the room to hug her mother. She was still upset, feeling tired. All that crying had made her irritable, and she was feeling lazy as well. She decided to spend the day in bed. Her mother came to the room and admonished her several times to have a bath. Lavanya asked for food in bed. Lavanya’s mother left her room without saying a single word. Lavanya slipped on to the side of her bed and looked at her mantelpiece. She noticed two Dora Dolls kept there. Without knowing why, she flew into a rage. She got out of bed and hurled the two dolls out of the window. She looked at them falling to the beach on the ground floor. One of the dolls got caught in the waves and was washed away. The other was lying on the beach, a small girl was running towards it. Lavanya started crying. She did not know that she was missing her dolls. She was just crying. Her mother got in food on a little trolley. Lavanya’s trolley also had a Dora doll picture. Seeing the trolley, she told her mother she did not want to eat.



Her mother understood quickly. “Did Dora hurt you?” she asked Lavanya. “N…nnnnn….ooo!” said Lavanya. “Then why are you looking so miserable?” her mother asked. Lavanya burst out crying. She hugged her mother and told her how everyone called her fat and lazy at the Dora Doll Party. “But is that Dora’s fault?” asked her mother. Lavanya went silent. She picked up a small portion of her mango and ate it slowly. She quickly ran to the window and saw the little girl playing with the Dora Doll she had thrown away in anger. She smiled to herself, came back, and enjoyed her mango. She was finally feeling hungry again. She started swallowing her food in a hurry. When she was eating her toasted cheese sandwich, she choked on a big bite. There was no water around on her trolley. She attempted to call out to her mother, but she ended up sputtering and gasping for air.



Not knowing what to do, she finally decided to climb out of bed and go to the kitchen. Alas! As soon as she stepped out of bed, she fell down with a thud! She had no energy left after the night’s drama. She sat there, crying quietly. Her mother came in just that moment and saw her on the floor. Wide-eyed and worried, she rushed to her daughter. Having understood what must have happened after quickly surveying her room, she admonished Lavanya. “Do you know what you are doing?” she asked Lavanya. Lavanya stopped crying and looked up questioningly, surprised at her mother’s question. “I think not. Come, let’s get you dressed after a proper shower before we talk,” said her mother. Lavanya hugged her mother. They both heard a wave splashing near Lavanya’s bedroom window. They smiled to each other, and Lavanya and she became friends again.

***

The Boy Who Sold the Red Fort


“Learn a lot from other people’s mistakes. It’s a much more

pleasant way to live.” ~ Charlie Munger

***


Sonia held the broken piece of the gemstone – the Kohinoor diamond! If only she would have gone to school and shown it to everyone. She would have taken it home and put her parents in jeopardy, they would have been jittery about having such an expensive stone at home. She loved teasing her parents sometimes. Only now, a big practical joke was on them. “What do we do now?” she signaled to Raju and Deepu. “Let’s find Deepak,” said Raju. “But what will we do once we find him?” asked Deepu. For once, Raju was at a loss for words. “We could…I don’t know. Ask for our phones?” he asked.



Sonia giggled. Raju got angry. Sonia got up, held her ears and stood in front of him. Raju did not look at her. She started bending up and down, up and down to him till he finally laughed and asked her to stop. Sonia sat down next to Raju. He was looking down, lost in his thoughts. She pulled at his sleeve and made a gesture for him to look towards the door. Raju looked up. His father was at the door with three other children. Raju, Deepu and Sonia got up. They had never seen the three children before. “Raju, this is Arpan, Feroz and Faiza. They are here to help you look for Deepak,” he said. Raju, Deepu and Sonia shook hands with them. Deepu looked up at Raju’s father quizzically. “I know what you are thinking. Why would they help us, that is what is bothering you, isn't it?” he asked. Sonia nodded her head in unison with Deepu and Raju. She was scared, and nervous.



Faiza held out her hand again and introduced herself along with her friends. “We are from the other school down the road. We know Deepak too! After all, he sold the Red Fort to us for half the value he placed on the Kohinoor diamond he gave you!” she laughed, prettily. Raju and Deepu were shocked. Sonia nodded her head slowly. She had completely understood Deepak by now. He was a trick artist! “Our mistake was that after treating him to lunch every day for over a month at the restaurant down the corner, we still did not look for him once he disappeared. And here all of you are looking for him in not even a day! We have a lot to learn from you,” said Feroz. “But why didn't you look for him?” asked Raju. “We were embarrassed. What will people think of us? What will the friends at school say?” said Arpan. Raju and Deepu hadn’t thought about that. Sonia went and sat down on a chair. She wouldn't have given it even a moment more, had she been in their position. Why bother about what people think?



Raju went to her and signaled her to take his hand. He was proud of her. He held her hand and walked up to the other three children. “Sonia is with us. She knows it is far more important that we try and make amends with our mistakes. We all learn from her. Sonia, don't you think we have a lot to learn from Faiza, Feroz and Arpan too?” he asked, smiling at her. Sonia held her ears, and bent up and down, up and down, up and down three times again. Deepu grinned at the confused look on the three faces. “She is sorry because you are all so brave to tell us exactly how you felt about your meeting Deepak and what transpired later between all of you. And we are so happy to meet you. Thank you!” he said. Raju’s father held his head up that day in the gathering at his place after the children had left to find Deepak. It had been a nice day.

***

The Red Shoes


“Remember that reputation and integrity are your most valuable

assets-and can be lost in a heartbeat.” ~ Charlie Munger

***

The Red Shoes

Hari got a new pair of sports shoes, red and white in colour, for his 13th birthday. He took them out of the wrapping paper and put them down on the floor. He was feeling numb. He had wanted these shoes ever since he had started playing football in the stadium in the morning. He grinned at his grandmother and winked at her. She hugged him. She knew he could not show his joy, it was contained behind his monkey face that he was pulling to tease her. Hari put on his new shoes the next morning and sprinted to the stadium. He had gotten up earlier than usual. He wanted to make sure he reached on time, before sunset was the coach’s call.

The Red Shoes


“Those are some shoes Hari!” Coach Nishant said. “Finally, you got yourself a pair to be able to play as well as the other boys. Though I must say, you have been doing extraordinarily well in the game.” Hari tipped a little and shook hands with Coach Nishant. He was feeling light on the foot, and his heart. “Nice shoes Hari!” said Chander, another boy who came to play in the stadium. Soon, Hari was surrounded by appreciative mates. This was that rare occasion when Hari was speaking to everyone. Usually, he just played and went back home to rush for school. He was a ruckus in the morning for everyone. His grandmother knew him best, though. All the complaining against his morning game could not pull Hari away from the stadium, come what may. Hari’s shoes had always been in question at the stadium. Though he was a very good player, he would hear loud remarks from Coach Nishant, and sometimes, the other boys, for not buying proper shoes for playing football every day. Hari could never tell anyone at home. Neither could he tell the Coach that his game was a constant source of mild irritation early in the morning for everyone. By day, when he returned from school, everything was normal again. Nobody talked about him playing in the stadium in the

The Red Shoes


morning except in the morning itself, when Hari would run around and rush for his school bus, gobbling his breakfast on the way. However, when he lay down in his grandmother’s lap at night and joked with her, he would tell her funny stories about the Coach pulling this leg about his shoes. He always rounded up the joke with how much the Coach admired his current game, but to no avail had it missed his grandmother’s ears that he wanted new shoes. She took her little bag of money out and went straight to a sports shoe shop to buy his birthday gift. That is how Hari came to be the proud owner of his red and white shoes. Hari used to polish his sports shoes every day. He would clean them, wax them and then wear them for his football matches in the morning. He spent half an hour on them after he woke up before he set out to play at the stadium. He had acquired a reputation for his dedication and integrity towards the game, and his shoes. He was not the boy that would let anyone down. The other boys had started respecting him. Hari might as well be on the way as an example of their leader, a captain they could admire, they thought. Then came the day when Hari was chosen as the captain of the team. The first match between their stadium and the

The Red Shoes


one in the next neighbourhood was in a day’s time. It was a quick, yet unanimous decision. Hari was nervous. His first match as captain. This might be a big challenge, he thought. Hari’s team lost the match. His first match as captain of his team. The team suffered so badly that Hari had not been able to contain himself on the field. He had taken off his shoes and hurled them in the crowd. He had also yelled at the referee and finally, created a scene by fighting with his teammates after the match. The stadium was dark next morning. Hari wore his old shoes and went to play. Coach Nishant rattled off Hari’s errors in front of everyone. In a heartbeat, he had lost both the reputation and integrity with which he had played his game. He had also lost his red and white shoes.

***

The Castle of Lies


“Remember Louis Vincenti’s rule: Tell the truth, and you won’t have to remember your lies. It’s such a

simple concept.” ~ Charlie Munger

***

The Castle of Lies

Vaidehi could not sleep at night. She was afraid to go to school the next day. She put her pillow on her head when her Mom came to wake her up. “Get up Vaidehi!” said her Mom. “You are late!” “Mom, I don’t want to go to school today. Am feeling sick,” said Vaidehi. “What happened?” asked her Mom. “I think I have fever,” said Vaidehi. Now Vaidehi rarely made an excuse to not go to school. So, her Mom got worried when Vaidehi let her examine her forehead, even though her forehead was cold.

The Castle of Lies


“Okay. Go off to sleep again. I’ll call the doctor,” her Mom said. Now Vaidehi couldn't sleep even more. The doctor would know she didn't have fever when he examined her. Vaidehi tip toed to the kitchen where her Mom was making tea. She tried to slip behind her unnoticed to pick up an onion from the basket. She wanted to put one under her arm to raise her body temperature to get a fever. Unfortunately for Vaidehi, just as she was about to pick one up, her mother saw her. “What happened Vaidehi?” asked her Mom. “Nothing Mom. Am hungry,” she said. “Why are you hunting in the basket for food? Look for something in the fridge,” her Mom said. “Actually Mom, I feel nauseous. Not feverish anymore. Could I have some lemon water?” asked Vaidehi. “But I thought you were hungry! What is the matter child? Come, let’s call Sanjay Uncle straight away,” she said. Vaidehi protested. She did not want the doctor to come home. So she said she was feeling fine and she did not need the doctor anymore.

The Castle of Lies


“So go to school if you are feeling fine! Come, I’ll have Dad drop you,” said her Mom. Vaidehi sat on her bed. She did not know what to say anymore. She kept thinking how she would rescue herself out of this situation. Her Dad came to her room. “What happened Vaidehi? You aren’t ready yet!” he said. “Sorry Dad!” said Vaidehi. She was glum. “What is the matter?” he asked her gently. Vaidehi decided to not lie anymore. She told her Dad she did not want to go to school because she was afraid of getting the report card today. She had not performed well in Math once again. So she lied to them. Her Dad explained, “Vaidoo…it’s best to be honest instead of lying to hide the truth. What happens is, you build such a big castle of lies that you forget somewhere to protect your palace of illusions. And all your lies come crumbling down, especially when your Mom can see through you.” Vaidehi hung her head in shame. She apologised to her Mom and Dad and got ready to face the day at school. She wasn’t going to build castles of lies anymore.

***

When Dreams are Unlimited


“The iron rule of nature is: you get what you reward for. If you want ants to come, you put sugar on the

floor.” ~ Charlie Munger

***


She drew two buttons for eyes. Then she painted a smiley around the buttons and coloured it yellow. She was beginning to like the software she had been introduced to in her computer class. She walked home silently, thought bubbles in her head. It was a long walk, and she was unable to pay attention to the road outside. All she could imagine was drawing a rainbow lit house with a small forest around it. Bunnies and squirrels running around in the sun, blinking their eyes from the screen and smiling up to her. Lost that she was, she still managed to reach home. She had her latest playlist ready to sing to and practice vocals at home. Her Grandpa came and scolded her.



“Why do you have to sing these songs to practice? Why can’t you learn some classical music?” he complained. “Because I want to sing these songs when I grow up,” she said, in a sing-song way. “You are grown up! You are 15!” he growled. “Then let me sing on stage,” she said. “Tahini! Come back here!” he shouted after her as she ran up to the terrace. The trees were silent. She looked up at the sky. There were clouds on the horizon, and she couldn't see the sun. It peeped out for a split second, and went back into the fold of the clouds. She got ready to walk it again, in her school dress. She was going to bunk school and go for a dance class. Nobody knew except her friend and her. They had both taken the class together. Tahini’s pocket money had been more than enough. With no parents at home, she was used to her Grandpa spoiling her. After learning some new aerobic moves in contemporary dance, Tahini and her friend, Shreya, hung around an ice-cream and shakes parlour.



“What have you been up to?” Shreya asked. “Oh! I have been drawing on a computer and singing at home and then, there is this dance class. I have a busy life now Shreya,” Tahini said. “Wow! That sounds good! But tell me, what will you do once school is over?” Shreya asked. “I want to make paintings on a computer. And I’ll sing, combine it with dance moves and use my paintings in the background to make it all into a performance,” Tahini said. “But Tahini, what about school? Even though all of that sounds like a lot, it makes sense when you say you want it all to look like a performance,” Shreya asked. “But what about school Tahini?” a voice piped up from the seating area behind them. Tahini and Shreya looked back to see who had said that. It seemed like a grown-up voice. When they saw who it was, they both stared wide-eyed. It was Ajay, the school head boy. What was he doing here in the ice-cream parlour? Tahini wondered to herself. “I don’t understand what you meant Ajay. Then what are you doing here? Isn't there school today?” Shreya asked.



Tahini wordlessly nodded her head. She agreed with Shreya. “Am doing exactly what you two are doing. Killing time at an ice-cream parlour during school hours,” Ajay said. Tahini and Shreya looked at each other. “And you are wondering why I would do so? So you don’t expect me to waste time, I guess,” he said, coming up to them and sitting with them. Tahini shrugged her shoulders. Reluctant to admit it, she knew he was right. They were sitting at an ice-cream parlour and spending time talking to each other during school hours, and it didn't bother them, but it did matter to them that Ajay was doing the same. Little did they know, that Ajay was out from school to look for them. The school administration had preferred that he would bring them back to the fold. “The school wants you two back Tahini. And they are spreading sugar on the floor for the ants to come,” Ajay said. “Meaning?” asked Shreya. “Let’s go to school, shall we? I’ll explain,” said Ajay.



Tahini and Shreya got up without resistance. They respected Ajay, like most of their other schoolmates. They almost never defied him. They all started strolling back to their school, which was nearby. But Tahini still had not understood what he had said earlier, about the ants on the floor, and somehow, she could not get it out of her mind. So she interrupted him while he was talking to Shreya. Lost in thought as usual, she could not stop herself from blurting it out when she addressed him in the middle of their conversation. “Ajay! What did you mean by those ants on the floor? You said that is what the school is doing. I did not understand at all,” said Tahini, in one breath. Ajay thought to himself while walking, pausing briefly to compose himself. Then he smiled gently at Tahini. “Tahini. You are a smart girl. Very intelligent and creative. But you do some things wrong in doing things right for yourself,” he said. “How?” she asked. “Well, two things about you which I know by now. One, you are doing everything you can to make your career all at once. Computer classes, singing, dancing. But you are doing it all at the cost of your academic record in school.



That is not the way you prioritise your career. Two, you did not even approach the school counsellor with your career choice so that the school could have helped you. You just went and did it your way, and in the end, you started bunking classes. There you go. As honest and simple as that. You are working, but your reward for your hard work? You might be performing on stage someday, but you will not have grades to take you through institutions that help students like you who want to perform with courses and training. So the school decided that if it wanted its ants to come back, it had to start putting sugar on the floor,” Ajay explained. “And what was the school done to incentivize us?” Shreya asked. “The school has tied up with undergraduate colleges abroad to provide training and short courses in performance to students who are interested,” he said, taking Tahini’s arm. He steered her towards the school gate. Tahini was lost in thought again. She did not know how to react to Ajay’s news. She was happy, but she was going to think a lot today. She had learnt not one, but two valuable lessons from him. One, to approach an institution such as her school if she needed something, rather than try and carve an entire



road on her own. And two, the power of incentives. Just like her school had thought of linking up with other institutions for bringing back students like her to the school once again, Tahini too could devise a plan for gaining an audience for her performance. She still had to think a lot about how to put sugar on the floor to bring the ants to it. Maybe she could ask the school for some suggestions. The school gong snapped her out of her thoughts. Ajay grinned at her and pushed her gently towards her classroom.

***

Rolling the Dice


“A lot of success in life…comes from knowing what you want to

avoid.” ~ Charlie Munger

***

Rolling the Dice

At the house party at Mr. Damodar’s home, the adults were discussing the same old things. Which mall was the best in the neighbourhood, how far was it, what were the latest shopping outlets there. Only Mr. Damodar was sitting quietly with Preeta in a corner. They were both talking. Preeta and Sanket were batchmates, so Sanket got curious about their conversation. He slipped past the adults and went and sat down beside them. “Hello Sanket. Am glad you could join us. Let’s play Ludo,” said Mr. Damodar. He immediately took out his phone and set the board for them. Preeta wanted the blue corner. Sanket took the green. Mr. Damodar laughed and said, “Well done! That’s the first move you have made on me, you both. Now I have no choice but to take the red corner,” he said. “What is the first move Uncle?” asked Preeta.

Rolling the Dice


“What you did Preeta. You immediately selected your colour and made yourself comfortable. Then Sanket selected his. And I was left with no choice,” Mr. Damodar said. “Oh! I thought the first move would be when I got a six on the dice and moved my pawns,” Sanket said. “Yes, that is also right. But sometimes, it’s nice to get comfortable isn't it?” Mr. Damodar grinned. “Yes, Uncle,” both Preeta and Sanket said in unison. The adults were now standing around the three watching them play. Mr. Jain piped up, “I want to play too.” “Next round,” said Mr. Damodar. Everyone laughed. “Yes, the game has started Mr. Jain. One is unable to enter once the dice starts rolling,” said Mrs. Kathuria. “The rules of the game,” Mr. Damodar murmured, and raised his glass of juice to everyone.

Rolling the Dice


There was a round of cheers as just then, Sanket got a six. He was the first one to move his pawn out. Everybody had joined in the game. And it was going fast. The three were pushing the buttons with speed. “Mr. Damodar. You have got everyone’s attention yet again. Cheers to your successes,” said Mr. Jain. “And thank you for inviting us to the party. Congratulations on your new factory Mr. Damodar,” said Mrs. Ganguly. “Thank you, my friends,” said Mr. Damodar. He got up, took a quick bow, and swiveled back to his game when Preeta shouted that Sanket was going to eat his pawn up. Everyone was enjoying themselves. “Mr. Damodar, to what do you owe your successes to?” asked Mr. Jain. Mr. Damodar got a six. He looked at Preeta’s pawn which was getting killed in six. He rolled the dice again. He got another six. He looked at his two pawns inside his red corner. He quickly pushed the dice button and got a four. He moved his two pawns and moved one of them for a four. He looked up and answered Mr. Jain.

Rolling the Dice


“Sorry Mr. Jain, for being unable to reply immediately. The answer really is – knowing what to really avoid. Like avoiding being dishonest with my customers and suppliers. In this case, I avoided eating up Preeta’s pawn. Because she helped me when I was distracted earlier,” Mr. Damodar said. The adults looked on and congratulated Mr. Damodar. Clearly, he knew how to manage his successes in life. Needless to say, Mr. Damodar won the game in record time against the two youngsters.

***

The Food Stall


“We have a passion for keeping things simple.”

~ Charlie Munger

***

The Food Stall

There was a buzz in the school assembly in the morning. The Principal had just announced a school fete and each class that came up with an innovative idea was going to put up a stall in the fete. The first period had been allotted to the class teachers to discuss ideas for the stalls. Balloon shooting seemed to be quite a favourite with Class IX. The class teacher, Mrs. Bagchi, clapped her hands to grab everyone’s attention. “Come on, Class IX. Let’s think some more! Balloon shooting is exciting, but isn't it what most school fetes have?” she asked. “Ma’m, I have an idea!” said Desh, the naughtiest boy in class, with a twinkle in his eyes.

The Food Stall


“Desh, please don't crack a joke right now! We have to all think hard!” said Mrs. Bagchi. “Ma’m, am serious!” Desh said. “Okay. So tell us. What can we do to get the Most Innovative Stall Prize at the school fete?” said Mrs. Bagchi. “Food!” said Desh, with a flourish. Everyone was quiet. Someone giggled at the back. Mrs. Bagchi strolled around the blackboard and looked at him. “Food, Desh! Why, everyone is going to be thinking about setting up a food stall! What’s so innovative about it?” asked Mrs. Bagchi. “The innovation will lie, in the eyes of the beholder Ma’m! Trust us! We will give you a blueprint of the plan soon!” he said. Mrs. Bagchi gave him thumbs up sign. Everyone organised themselves around Desh. Costs, logistics, sketches, layout, everything was planned everyday till the blueprint was ready. When Mrs. Bagchi rolled out the blueprint with Desh looking on and the whole class poring over them, nobody could believe Mrs.

The Food Stall


Bagchi’s reaction. She held up her head and shouted “Yes!” loudly, her fist thumping the air. “And Ma’m. We kept it simple. Everyone will want food at the fete. It’s a product no one can do without” said Desh. Mrs. Bagchi gave a pat on his back. She was proud of him. The prize was theirs after their plan became a roaring success. Basically, Class IX did not have a stall. They took eco-friendly food vending machines and put them up everywhere around the school fete grounds. Not one Class IX student stood at a stall collecting money, there were no duties except to saunter around and check the vending machine from time to time. Not only were they free to enjoy the fete, they blended eco-friendly technology with costs so well that the Principal was amazed by their efficiency and planning. “So Desh. What is the secret of your success?” the Principal asked Desh on stage. “Only one thing sir. We kept it simple,” said Desh. He winked at his classmates sitting in the auditorium. A loud cheer went up with Mrs. Bagchi cheering the loudest. They all knew what he meant.

***

The Pencil Sharpener


“Never risk what you have and need for what we don't have and

don't need.” ~ Warren Buffett

***


Gaurav was in a fix. His teacher was dictating answers to the questions at the back of the chapter and his pencil tip has just broken off. He had a sharpener, but it was not a good one. He would take a long time to sharpen his pencil. His box was full of pencil shavings as well. He needed to go to the dustbin to use his sharpener. He elbowed his bench mate, Matreyi, who had seen him fidgeting but was avoiding him. She wanted to concentrate and write what the teacher was saying perfectly in her notebook. She was always meticulous. Well, mostly always, she sighed to herself. When Gaurav had a problem, she had to listen. She asked him silently, “What?” “I need a sharpener,” he said. She quickly gave him one and went back to her writing.



He elbowed her again. She opened her eyes wide and turned and looked at him. “Now what?” she exclaimed, hissing at him. “I need to go to the dustbin and sharpen my pencil. My pencil box is full of shavings. Look!” he whispered to her. Matreyi rolled her eyes and transferred her pencil box to his desk. He took it slowly and sharpened his pencil, the shavings falling in Matreyi’s box to the rhythm of the rolling pencil. He quickly got back to his notebook, left a page to cover up what he had missed and started writing. Matreyi stared at him. He didn't glance at her, till she took her pencil box from his desk and snapped it close angrily. He looked at her and realised she was angry. He had made her angry, yet again. What had he done this time, he thought to himself. Gaurav returned glum face from school. Hot lunch was waiting for him on the table, and it was his favourite dish, rajma chawal, but it could not satisfy him beyond a point. His mother noticed him toying with his food. “Matreyi is angry again? What did you do this time?” she asked him.



“I need a new sharpener. I keep asking her for one in the middle of class, I think she gets angry with me when I do,” he said. His mother silently removed his plate from the dining table. Gaurav went straight to his room and crashed in his bed. He was tired. Evening brought a surprise for him. His father came and gifted him a new pencil sharpener. This was in the shape of a little box. It collected shavings inside and sharpened his pencil so fast that Gaurav whooped in joy. He carried his new pencil sharpener to school and put it on his desk. Everyone admiringly watched him sharpen his pencil. Soon, news spread to the senior classes of Gaurav’s new pencil sharpener. Some seniors walked down to Gaurav’s class during lunch break to see it. “Amla, pity we don't have to use pencils anymore, right?” asked Dev. He was in Class VIII. “Yes Dev. Otherwise we could have asked Gaurav to help us sharpen our pencils every day,” said Amla. Gaurav grinned at them and nodded his head. This was one of the rarest of occasions when seniors were talking to him, a Class IV student.



“Oh, but he can help us! We still need pencils for our art classes. Gaurav, would you not lend us your pencil sharpener for our sketching class?” asked Dev. The colour on Gaurav’s face ran out. He could not answer back. Parting with his new pencil sharpener was worse than Matreyi getting angry with him. Matreyi was watching him. She quickly piped in. “Of course, you can take it! But will you give us your ink pens so that we can try and write with them in our rough notebooks? We have never used them before!” she said. Gaurav heard her. He nodded his head when the thought of writing with an ink pen came to him. He was excited too. Never had he written with an ink pen before. Dev and Amla took out their ink pens from their pockets and gave them to Gaurav and Matreyi. They took the pencil sharpener with them, talking amongst themselves. Gaurav watched it going away with them, his heart sinking a little. He was already very fond of his new pencil sharpener. “What will you do with the ink pens?” asked Vibhor, hopping up to them. He adjusted his glasses and looked at them quizzically.



“It’ll be fun! We will try and write with them!” said Matreyi. “Fun yes! But work? Not really, right?” asked Vibhor. “What do you mean?” said Gaurav. “Well, from what I saw, you gave away your pencil sharpener, what you really need, to some people you don't know. In exchange for ink pens, which you cannot use in class, since we are not allowed yet to do so. This doesn’t seem too good for you, Gaurav,” he said. Gaurav thought about what he was saying. “So Vibhor, you are telling me I should not have given the pencil sharpener in exchange for ink pens?” he asked. “Yes Gaurav. You don't really need or want ink pens now, do you? And you just risked you pencil sharpener being used by seniors in their class when you will need it after lunch break. Also, you never know. It’s a fantastic pencil sharpener. It looks expensive too. You just gave away something you really need, and want, to some strangers. Didn’t you?” asked Vibhor. Gaurav completely understood Vibhor. He realised his mistake. Matreyi realised hers too. She hung her head, thinking quietly.



It was Gaurav’s turn to be angry with her, she thought. Surprisingly, Gaurav was quiet and attentive in next class. He didn't fidget even once. And he smiled at Matreyi who was watching him closely. “We’ll get the pencil sharpener back. Don’t worry,” he winked at her, whispering. She smiled at him. They both wrote down what the teacher was writing on the board. Vibhor had heard them. He kept pretending to write and said ‘Cheers’ loudly to Gaurav and Matreyi. They both giggled. Some other children laughed a little too. The teacher turned and stared at the class. It was time to forget the new pencil sharpener for a while.

***

The Pond


“It’s much easier to stay out of trouble now then get out of

trouble later.” ~ Warren Buffett

***

The Pond

Moinak used to go for a swim every day at a pond next to Hiren’s house in Chembur, Bombay. Sometimes, though, he would not swim. Sometimes, he would just try and make a fishing rod next to the pond and whip it in the pond to catch fish. Moinak would serve cutting chai at the road-side shop in Chembur by the day. The crowds would swirl in the evening around his small shop. That was his cue to take off for the pond. He would go sprinting on naked feet towards the pond, and jump in the air, landing with a splash in the water when he got close to the pond. One would have thought Moinak had no trouble in his life, he was earning money, and he was swimming and fishing in a pond every day. One would have really thought. It wasn’t that the shop owner was so angry with Moinak disappearing in the evening that he was in trouble. No. It also wasn’t that sometimes, Hiren would slip out into the

The Pond


evening and run to the pond to fish with Moinak. Unfortunately, in our country, a boy who serves cutting chai at a road-side shop is usually not welcome by educated families living in apartments at their homes as friends of their children. This is the bitter truth. Unfortunately. But none of this was even close to the kind of trouble Moinak was getting into by going to the pond every day. Moinak was going blind. And he was being told by Hiren every day that there was acid in the pond water. That is why there was no fish in it. A spirited boy like Moinak was losing his eye-sight bit by bit every day, and Hiren was helping him understand that the pond was not fit for swimming. It had sewage water being dumped into it every day. As a result, the water was turning acidic. But Hiren could help Moinak no further. Moinak would not believe him. Even that was not entirely the case. Moinak just wanted to swim. But where could he have gone in Bombay looking for a place to swim every day? And in between the love for swimming and not realizing that his eyesight was diminishing slowly, only because he knew the way from the tea shop to the pond and back like fish in water, there came a day when he stepped out of the pond, only to feel that there was water still in his eyes. His

The Pond


vision had turned blurry. He rubbed his eyes till they were red. But he could not see properly anymore. Hiren had no option but ask the elders in his apartment block to help Moinak. The wisest of them gave Hiren a sound piece of advice. Something that Hiren hasn’t forgotten even to this day, when it has been four years since Moinak has left his life as his friend who used to meet him at the pond near his apartments. “Trouble brews around you Hiren. You can sense it when it does. In India, trouble also comes in the form of ponds dumped with waste and dirt. You see and know it and stay out of it. But what do we do when children like Moinak, in their innocence, avoid the dangers of the trouble around them till it envelops them? What does it say, for our country, after 70 years of Independence?” he wondered, talking to himself, as well as Hiren. Hiren and he walked around the apartment block in silence. There were no more words exchanged between them on their stroll.

***

A Very Successful Habit


“The difference between successful people and really

successful people is that really successful people say no to almost

everything.” Warren Buffett

***


Mr. Damodar won two consecutive games of Ludo on his phone with Preeta and Sanket. Everybody else wanted him to play a third round. “No, thank you everyone! But I only push my luck so far!” he said, jumping off the side table he had been sitting on all the while. There was an appreciative roar of laughter from the crowd gathered around them. He gave up his seat and gestured towards the crowd for someone to take it. Sanket and Preeta left their places as well. Mr. Damodar grinned at them and held up his phone for everyone to see.



“Anybody? The three of us need a break,” he said. Mr. Jain took the phone from him. Soon another game began, with four adult players this time. Mr. Damodar stood amongst the adults, watching the game, checking his watch every now and then. Just then, the doorbell rang. Mr. Damodar excused himself silently and went for the door himself. Someone called after him from the gathering around the game, “Mr. Damodar! Am sure someone else can answer the door! Please be with us.” “No, my friend. I can’t see you but I can hear you. Much as I would like to witness the game, I must handle this myself,” he replied. Sanket was curious. Why was Mr. Damodar so particular about answering the door? And who was he waiting for? It turned out that the owner of the catering company from where the food had been arranged for the party had turned up himself to deliver the goods. Mr. Damodar had anticipated this and left his guests briefly to attend to him. The guests might have been a little disappointed, but they knew Mr. Damodar. He would say no to almost everything suggested to him that was without thoughtful attention to detail. Twice already, he had revealed to his guests how he employed his values in every possible sphere of life. He



had talked about playing with luck, and had anticipated a situation which he needed to handle personally. Preeta was watching both Sanket and Mr. Damodar. She knew Sanket was thinking hard about something from the look on his face. Just then, Sanket broke into a smile and looked around for Preeta. She waved back at him. Sanket went and whispered something to Preeta. She nodded her head. They went up to Mr. Damodar, who was talking to the owner of the catering company. Preeta spoke first. “Damodar uncle, may we?” she was polite. “Yes, my dear. Tell me,” said Mr. Damodar. “Sanket and I were thinking that we could possibly help in making the party a lot more fun than it already is. We could set up games on phones for everyone. That way, all of us would be able to play and enjoy ourselves,” she told him. Mr. Damodar looked at them with a twinkle in his eyes. “Why, that’s a brilliant idea, I must say! Please, go right ahead! And thank you Sanket!” Mr. Damodar caught the silent boy grinning ear to ear red handed. Nothing went



past unnoticed by Mr. Damodar. He knew where the idea had come from, even though Preeta had said it all. Sanket went red in his ears and acknowledged Mr. Damodar. He had managed to make Mr. Damodar say yes, for once. He was aware of Mr. Damodar’s reputation from his father. In his father’s words, Mr. Damodar said no to almost everything. Sanket had discovered it wasn’t a habit. It was the habit of a very successful person who was open to reason.

***


Hello friend! Keshav here. When my teeth had started to come out and I was getting a new set, I used to put the fallen tooth under my pillow and make a loud wish to the tooth fairy. Usually, the next day, I used to get what I want. I collected the last part of these stories in this book while making wishes. I still had Three Teeth in My Mouth that needed to renew, even though I am 13 years old. Call it luck, or late evolution, but I managed to make three wishes with the three teeth that fell during this time. My first wish was that I could write this book and present you 40 of the stories that my Dad had told me. This wish has come true, as you are reading it. My second wish was that I write more stories based on the wit and wisdom of Mr. Buffett and Mr. Munger. That also, is coming true. I am writing more stories that my Dad tells me every night when I go to bed. My third wish. That I meet Mr. Buffett and Mr. Munger someday and talk to them over pakodas and chai, since am allowed chai now. Maybe it will be a rain filled day, and we will talk non-stop while filling our stomachs up.


The last wish is still to come true. Hope you enjoy Part III as much as I enjoyed writing it. And remember, there are characters to remember in this part as well from the previous short stories.

Love and Luck, Keshav


Index of Stories – Part III 23. The Music Lesson 129 24. The Math Test 134 25. The Chess Game 138 26. What Winners Do 143 27. A Holiday at Home 148 28. The Fair Deal 152 29. Lamps in Chandrapur 155 30. Of Truth and Lies 159 31. Dora Doll at the Beach 163 32. Finding an Edge 168 33. The Old Books 174 34. The Correct Time 178 35. The Science Project 182 36. Arjuna’s Story 186 37. Pratibha Adoption Centre 191 38. The Bike with No Wheels 196 39. The Right Way 200 40. The Pond is Not the Sewer 203

The Music Lesson


“We enjoy the process far more than the proceeds.”

~ Warren Buffett

***

The Music Lesson

Anubhuti and Ronak took their bicycles and rode off in the summer light, a little before evening time, sailing slowly across the neighbourhood in the strong, hot breeze blowing against them. They got off their seats outside Shreya’s house, who was just coming out of the house gate on her bicycle. “Hi, Shreya!” they both said, happily. “Hi! Let’s go!” said Shreya, smiling at them. They all rode slowly on the empty streets, a dog panted at one corner where they took a turn, and flopped his head down to sleep off. The small shops on the way looked sleepy too. Even the shopkeepers seemed to be content in resting with their eyes shut as their water coolers blew cold air on their faces. Anubhuti and Ronak were elder sister and younger brother, with a difference of three years. Shreya was their

The Music Lesson


friend in the neighbourhood. They were enjoying their summer vacation, and had just added some more fun to their month and half long holiday. They were going to learn classical music at the Sangeet Vidyalaya near their homes. Today was their first day of going to the music school. Since it was before 4 o’clock in the peak of summer, the streets were bare, lazy themselves and empty. There was hardly any activity on the roads except for these three riding slowly, chatting and singing together against the wind. Hot winds called loos blowing during this time was a common phenomenon in Alwar. They reached Sangeet Vidyalaya and were still singing an old song together when a man came out of the door that they saw while pushing the gates open to park their bicycles. “Shreya, Ronak? And am forgetting, Anu….?” he asked. “Anubhuti,” said Anubhuti promptly. “Ahhh! Yes, you have come to learn music today?” he asked. “Yes, sir,” they said in unison.

The Music Lesson


“Come, come inside children. It’s hot outside,” he said, leading them inside the music school. The children went in behind him, looking around. There were sitars in one room, a harmonium in the other. Some children were singing an alaap in another room. They followed the man, soaking everything in. “You didn’t ask me who I am? Never mind, I’ll tell you myself. I am going to be teaching you how to sing. Hindustani classical music. My name is Rajesh,” he said, teasingly to make them comfortable. The children grew quieter. But they liked their new teacher. “Come inside this room. Yes. Please have some water,” he said, offering them water from an earthen vessel. The water was sweet and cold. The children gulped it down and said “Ahhhhh!” spontaneously even as they drank the water. Rajesh Sir grinned at them. They got busy within themselves and barely realised he was in the room with them. He quickly gathered them around and started his lesson.

The Music Lesson


“First, we will learn a bhajan. Do you know the bhajan Jai Jai Mangal Murthi Ganesh?” he asked. “No” they said. “But we want to learn” added Ronak. Rajesh Sir asked them to write the bhajan in their notebooks. He sang the song along, and the children listened with joy. He had a lovely voice, and they all wanted him to sing it again. “First let me hear you sing it. Now, one by one, join me and repeat after me,” he said. They all sang with him one by one, and when he gestured, they joined their voices in a chorus, singing the song together. Rajesh Sir clapped his hands when they finished. The children glowed with pride. They had managed to sing the bhajan well. “So we have begun our task of learning Hindustani classical music well. Please come back tomorrow and we will start learning every day, for an hour. Is that okay?” he enquired.

The Music Lesson


“Yes sir!” the children shouted, excitedly. They scrambled to their cycles, Rajesh Sir quickly following them out. “And who knows! You might sing this bhajan on All India Radio soon!” he said, as they took out their cycles. The children smiled, and waved at him. They did not even think it was a big deal to be singing on the radio. In any case, they were not even sure what he meant by that. They were just happy to have had such a good time singing a beautiful song with what seemed like a fun teacher with a great voice. And so, they cycled back to their homes, singing the new bhajan they had learnt. The wind was pushing them this time around, so they could easily sing in a chorus without having to strain their voices. Ronak and Anubhuti left Shreya at her gate. All three of them ran inside their homes after parking their bicycles. They told their Moms excitedly about their first day at Sangeet Vidyalaya. But of course. None of them remembered All India Radio in their conversations.

***

The Math Test


“There seems to be some perverse human characteristic that likes to

make easy things difficult.” ~ Warren Buffett

***

The Math Test

Keerti was having her lunch at school. Paranthas and potato onion vegetables. She was glancing at her notebook simultaneously to revise her formulae. She had a habit of speaking out the formula loud to memorise it. “a plus b whole square is equal to….” she was murmuring to herself. She was also trying to juggle a morsel of her food while remembering the correct equation. It fell accidentally on her crisp white shirt. She hurriedly brushed her shirt off, staining it a bright yellow on the right side of her pocket. Unsurprisingly, she forgot her formula in that moment. She had also managed to stain her clothes with turmeric and oil. It was going to be Math class in five minutes. Keerti decided to quickly read the rest of the formulae, and

The Math Test


carelessly she forgot about the food she had dropped on her shirt. The gong startled her back to the looming Math class when her teacher would walk in and ask everyone to give a class test. She realised she might not have done a good job at memorising her formulae. She panicked a little. The yellow stain stared back at her. She had forgotten to rub it with water to lighten it. She groaned. Now her mother would scold her too. She got even more worried when her teacher came to class. By now, Keerti was sure she could not remember a single formula for the class test. “Vicky,” she whispered, to her best friend sitting two seats away from her. “No way Keerti, no cheating today!” he whispered, as everyone wished the teacher a good afternoon and sat down. “I’ll fail!” she exclaimed. Both she and Vicky and Keerti didn't realise they were still standing. Everyone else had settled down on their seats. “Yes, Vicky and Keerti? Planning to cheat again, and you are letting me know beforehand, is it?” asked the teacher. “Why don't you both take a walk outside the classroom? It’s a lovely afternoon.”

The Math Test


Vicky heaved a big, heavy sigh and followed Keerti out of the classroom. It was beginning to be their standard ritual. Vicky was losing count of the number of Math classes they had been sent out of the class for as punishment. He was getting irritated now with Keerti and her drama in Math class. “What’s your problem Keerti? Why do you get this way, particularly in Math class? You know the school can call in our parents anytime?” he barked at her. Then he stopped when he saw the big yellow stain on her shirt. He laughed at her. “Now what, you are back in nursery? You can’t eat by yourself either, is it?” he asked. Keerti didn't know where it came from, but she let out a little sob. Vicky immediately grew wide eyed. He had never seen her cry before. He felt a flood of concern for his best friend. “There! There! What is it, pet? Why are you crying?” he asked gently. “I don’t know! I was trying to memorise my formulae during lunch! And my food dropped on the shirt, I forgot the formulae, everything happened at once! What was I supposed to do? I had to call out to you then!” she sobbed.

The Math Test


Vicky thought for a bit. He patted her to quieten her, then asked her very gently, as if she was really a little girl going to her first nursery class for the first time, “Why were you eating your food and trying to remember your formulae simultaneously?” Keerti stopped sobbing. She shrugged her shoulders a little, still looking down, embarrassed at having lost her composure. “You know that you speak out aloud while trying to remember something, don’t you?” he asked again. She nodded her head and sniffed. Then she giggled a little. “At least you can laugh at yourself! Oh dear! Human beings! They complicate their own lives when things are so easy otherwise! So what’s the moral of the story, Keerti, my friend?” he asked her. “That I should study and eat separately. I complicated it unnecessarily and spoilt my own fun,” she said, smiling by now. “Good girl! Come, let’s go apologise to the teacher, shall we?” he said. Keerti meekly followed Vicky back into the class.

***

The Chess Game


“The most important thing to do if you find yourself in a hole is to

stop digging.” ~ Warren Buffett

***

The Chess Game

Immediately. This is how he liked to make his move on the chess board. And he usually won the game, so Farhad wasn’t going to change the way he was going to play at the local Chess Challenge for kids under 17 years of age. Going to school was not an option anymore. At least for a month, he had to practice day and night to perfect his style of playing. He wanted to be known as the fastest player at the Chess Challenge. Even as he dreamt of winning the championship to make it to the District Chess Challenge. He fought at home when his parents told him to balance his school life with his game. “I know what am doing!” he shouted, when his father tried explaining to him how it would affect his studies.

The Chess Game


“You might end up regretting it,” his father said in a raised voice. “How will you manage to get back to all that you will miss at school?” Mr. Khan was getting angry too, but he controlled himself. He did not want to shout back at his impulsive son yet. “You know am intelligent enough!” Farhad retorted. “And arrogant!” his mother came and sat next to his father, angry at him for speaking rudely to her husband, and his Dad. “Well, I can be if I am good!” Farhad snapped back. “You will realise you are digging a hole for yourself soon, my boy,” said Mr. Khan giving up. “Let him do what he wants. It doesn't seem like he is in any mood to listen to anybody now,” Mr. Khan told his wife. Mrs. Khan got up and went to the kitchen. She laid out the food in silence, still angry with Farhad. By now, Farhad was more than sure he had won the argument. He gobbled his food down, got up and bowed at both his parents. “I win!” he said. Before they could react, he has zipped up to his room to play chess.

The Chess Game


Within a week, Farhad was playing chess the entire day. Sometimes, he would stay up late at night playing against the computer. He lost all sense of routine since he did not have to go to school anymore. Sometimes, he even disappeared from the dinner table without eating his food. Every time Mrs. Khan tried to say something, Mr. Khan stopped her. “He’s 16. Let him learn when to stop when he’s bringing trouble onto himself,” he told her. Things got worse. Farhad completely gave up on his books and, to add to that, his friends. He would play chess, practice his moves, get tired, think of taking a walk, then decide against it because he was getting lazier and lazier about the other facets of his life. Eating, exercise, even bathing, were becoming habits that he was breaking out of. Mrs. Khan was worried. Mr. Khan held his ground. After three weeks, Mr. Khan slowly sneaked up to his son while he was still sleeping till late afternoon on a Sunday. He shook him gently and tried waking him up. Farhad had never been woken up by his father before, and surprised, he got up, his eyes burning, his body weak.

The Chess Game


Mr. Khan took a picture of him sitting in bed from his camera phone. “Here. I’ll put this up on Facebook. This is what my son looks like after working hard on his chess game” he said, showing Farhad the picture. Farhad took a good look at the picture. He then rubbed his eyes. “What? It’s 2 o’clock!” he asked, shocked, looking at his Dad’s phone clock. “And are you serious? This is me?” he asked his Dad. Mr. Khan showed him another picture of him, taken two months back on his phone when they had gone out for dinner. Farhad decided it best not to comment anymore. He got up from his bed and went in straight for a bath. He took a long time and came out to the dining table. He had shaven himself and looked clean and crisp, though weak, having lost quite a bit of weight over three weeks. He ate ravenously and called his friends from school. Then he went for a walk in the evening. He came back, watched some TV, took a book from the bookshelf and wished his parents good night.

The Chess Game


“No more chess in this house for a while, Mom and Dad. And oh, sorry! I have been a rude child,” he said. He then went up to his room, while Mr. Khan held his wife’s hand. He looked at her and gave her a thumbs-up sign.

***

What Winners Do


“It’s better to hang out with people better than you. Pick out

people whose behaviour is better than yours and you will drift in

that direction.” ~ Warren Buffett

***

What Winners Do It was a new school. Two more years after Class X, and Lovish was going to pass out, i.e., if he cleared his board exams, he thought and grinned to himself. He had chosen Physics, Chemistry, Math, and Sports as subjects in the new school. He was accepted because he had a brilliant record of playing cricket, right from childhood. So when he went on the field to play with his new classmates on the very first day, there was much expectation from Lovish in the stadium. He didn't disappoint his team, in fact, his team won the game because of his fielding and batting.

What Winners Do


But right at the outset, he could sense something was wrong in class. There were a bunch of classmates who did not talk to him and stayed away, even if he tried to approach them to share his tiffin with them, or chat with them about the latest Physics puzzle. Slowly, he began to understand that there were two groups in class. One of the groups studied and worked constantly on their studies. They were sincere and hardworking, but they didn’t mingle with the other group, that used to ignore their studies, but play sports very well in the stadium. Lovish knew he had taken up a task on his hands, the two groups just did not mingle with each other, but he liked to be part of all kinds of conversations and make new friends. He constantly attempted to talk to everyone, and after settling in in his new life at school, he even tried to bring people from the two groups together. But to no avail did any of his attempts make sense to his classmates. Just when Lovish decided, after one harrowing attempt at making Sona, Jai and Viren talk to each other from the two groups, to abandon his project in his class, a new student joined their class the very same day. Ankit was a left hander, Lovish discovered, and quiet too, in class. But he was a right hander, much to Lovish’s

What Winners Do


surprise, when he batted on field. And that day, Lovish’s team lost to Ankit’s team. In true sportsman spirit, Ankit came up to Lovish and they shook hands over the game. Then Ankit did something even more surprising. Instead of going back to the locker room with his team, he quietly left everyone and drifted away on his own towards the basketball court. Lovish watched him stand near the court, till one of the boys asked him if he would want to play. Lovish could see Ankit jump immediately on court, he had made his way into another class’s team. He was playing with them, and here, Lovish could barely manage to bring his class groups to talk to each other. Lovish silently promised himself that he would keep trying, but first, he had to talk to Ankit. He was curious about him. Not only was he good in class, though quiet, he was brilliant in two sports, cricket and now, as Lovish watched his game, basketball too. Lovish wondered what other feathers did Ankit wear on his cap. Lo and behold! Lovish had known, almost by instinct, that Ankit was a multi-faceted student. What he had not known was that Ankit was quiet only in class. In any other place, say the stadium, or during lunch, even when they

What Winners Do


went out on trips, Ankit was lively, witty and had everyone rolling with laughter. He worked hard and had a curious brain, but it never showed on him. It was as if he did it effortlessly, outshining everyone else at both academics and sports. Ankit hung around the other sections of Class XI a lot more than their own class. Lovish hesitated a little in the beginning, but decided to hang around Ankit a lot more. It was beginning to pay off. Lovish was learning new things from Ankit. How easy he was with his reading and playing, which Lovish discovered was because his family loved to read and talk about books. He even discovered that Ankit was deliberately staying away from the two groups in their class. “They’ll come around. Even if they don’t, at least we would have made friends in the other sections,” he told Lovish. He winked at Lovish. It was much later, when the two groups in their class finally began gravitating towards Ankit and him at lunch time, that Lovish understood the meaning of that wink. He felt good with Ankit. Lovish knew he had finally made a friend, but better than himself. And he had no qualms

What Winners Do


when he realised he was improving his own behaviour and activities just by being with Ankit. Not only for himself, he knew this had been good for their entire class. At the end of the day, they were all winners. In their own way.

***

A Holiday at Home


“The trick is, when there is nothing to do, do nothing.”

~ Warren Buffett

***

A Holiday at Home

Exams were over. Polly rushed back home, went straight to her room, and jumped in bed. She lay down with a flourish and smiled too herself, smiling gleefully. What a month it had been. Studying, making notes, tuitions, group studies, Polly and her friends had all jokingly agreed that they were sick of each other. And they were not going to meet each other till next semester. Polly wondered how she was going to spend her two-month long vacation till next semester. She could buy her new books, she could start studying earlier…and she was planning again. Pretty Polly, she thought to herself. Stop thinking for the time being, she told herself. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the warmth of the winter afternoon. Maybe she could sleep.

A Holiday at Home


There, you are planning again, she thought. She giggled to herself and closed her eyes. She let her mind drift away, by itself. When she opened her eyes, it was dark. Polly could not believe she had slept a deep sleep for quite many hours. She stretched out slowly and lay in bed for a while. Then she got up and had a long shower. When she finally went to the living room, her parents were smiling to each other, waiting for her. She went and hugged her Dad. Then she sat next to her Mom and put her head on her shoulder. “Dad,” she said. “Yes, my precious,” her Dad said. “Maybe you can tell me what to do for the holidays. Though am feeling very lazy after the exams, to be honest,” she told her Dad, grinning at him. Her Dad grinned back. He stretched out his arms and Polly went and settled her head on his lap. “You know what Polly. I’ll tell you what you can do these holidays,” he said. “What Dad” said Polly, her eyes still closed.

A Holiday at Home


“Nothing!” her Dad said. Polly opened her eyes. “Nothing?” she asked. “Yes!” her Dad said. “But how do I do nothing?” she asked. “You’ll figure out. You are a smart girl,” he teased her. “Alright, I’ll do that. Nothing. Good night!” she teased him back, and flopped he head on his lap again. Mr. and Mrs. Fernandes laughed. Polly laughed with them. The family was enjoying their winter time next to a blower with warm cups of coffee and some books around them. And so, Polly did nothing. Sometimes, she would take a small walk into the sunset with mist swirling around her. There was a book her Dad had gifted her which she would read in a small park full of trees, benches right under them. She would read and ponder, looking at the birds practicing flying together early in the morning, the sunrise peeping out of the clouds on the horizon. She would cook with her mother and wait for her Dad to come back from work, treating him to yet another dish she thought of and made herself, enjoying getting teased by him when he

A Holiday at Home


pulled a prank on her at the dining table, pretending he was choking on the dinner she made. Yet sometimes, she just lay on the sloping roof of her terrace, carrying a blanket and her book, lying there for hours, thinking, reading, dozing off, waking up to the sound of some distance trucker blowing his horn merrily on the highway. Yes, she did do these things. But she did nothing. No studying, tuitions, group studies. She was enjoying a blissful holiday at home.

***

The Fair Deal


“You can’t make a good deal with a bad person.”

~ Warren Buffett

***

The Fair Deal Dev and Amla came back the next few days to tell Gaurav that the pencil sharpener was doing fine in their art class. It was sitting pretty in their classroom on the shelves next to their books. Gaurav, Vibhor and Matreyi put their heads together during lunch hours to brainstorm the return of the pencil sharpener. “Just give the ink pens back!” said Matreyi. Gaurav nodded his head. Vibhor was still skeptical. “I don’t think the sharpener will move even two steps away from those shelves, even after giving the ink pens back!” he said. “Why?” asked Gaurav.

The Fair Deal


“See, Dev doesn’t mean well. I think he wants to keep the pencil sharpener, even though it is not his. He is just a bully, using his seniority to keep it,” said Vibhor. “So even if we return the ink pens and make it a fair deal, they will not return it to us?” asked Gaurav. “Gaurav, you are a good person. You are even saying things like it belonging to us, when it actually belongs to you,” said Vibhor. “So, let’s try it the good way then!” said Gaurav. Vibhor shook his head. Matreyi nodded hers. “It’s settled then. We return the ink pens and tell them to give the pencil sharpener back,” Gaurav said. Even though he was not ready for this plan, Vibhor signaled a thumbs-up to show he was with them. Half an hour later, they returned to their class, trooping in in silence. “You were right,” said Gaurav. “How easily Dev said he will bring it back to us once their work was done with it,” said Matreyi.

The Fair Deal


“And when will their work be done with it?” asked Vibhor, sarcastically. “Never!” said Gaurav, throwing his hands up in the air. They sat around on their seats, thinking, till Gaurav looked around at both. “What do we do next?” he asked. “Forget cutting deals with Dev. You can’t make a good deal with a bad person,” said Vibhor. “Who said that?” Gaurav said. “My father once told me while reading a big, fat book by someone called Charlie Munger,” said Vibhor. “Hmmm. Seems like Mr. Munger is right,” said Matreyi. They all nodded their heads in unison.

***

Lamps in Chandrapur


“The only way to win is to work, work and work and hope for some

insights.” ~ Charlie Munger

***

Lamps in Chandrapur

When it rained in Chandrapur, it was not only stormy, with the winds blowing in circles, the sky also went from pink to blue to golden, all at once. It was not something which was seen every day. Only in the monsoons did the rains fall as if they would not fall again in the next season. Jeevan was rushing about, trying to get the electricity to work. When he couldn't find the power button in the dark corner of the house, he went to the kitchen and lit up a lamp. He liked the lamp a lot. So he took out some more lamps and lit the entire living room with small, flickering lights to greet Harini. Harini was coming back home from school after a long while. She was looking forward to being at home and spend a vacation where she did not have to work too hard. After all, she had worked very hard in her new school and wanted a holiday.

Lamps in Chandrapur


As the car sped up towards the small driveway, Jeevan took the umbrella and took quick steps towards the door. Harini stepped out and greeted him warmly. “Jeevan! How are you?” she asked. “Am very well, Harini didi! How are you? You look so tall!” he grinned. “Stop teasing me Jeevan! Am still two heads shorter than you!” she said laughingly. Jeevan took her bags and went inside the house. Harini let out a small gasp, and was delighted to see the living room lit up with lamps. Vishwajeet Uncle came in beaming as well. “Well done Jeevan! Not only have you solved a problem, you have given Harini a surprise!” he exclaimed. “What problem Papa?” Harini asked. “There is no electricity since a few days, Harini. That is why Mom and everyone else is at your Mama’s place for the time being” he said. “But why is there such a big problem Papa?” he said.

Lamps in Chandrapur


“Let’s talk, Harini, over lunch?” Vishwajeet Uncle said. “Okay!” she said, quickly ran to the kitchen to wash her hands, and help Jeevan with the dishes he was carrying. “No! No! Harini didi…you have just come home! Not today please!” Jeevan said. “Papa! Who has been teaching Jeevan English? He is speaking so well now,” Harini asked happily. “Your mother has been making him read for two hours every day, once in the evening, and once when he gets up in the morning. I must say, he has done a fine job,” said Vishwajeet Uncle. “Yes!” said Harini. “No Harini didi. I hope to learn as well as you and go away from Chandrapur. Then come back and teach everyone English here!” Jeevan said. “Why Jeevan?” she asked. “Because now no one in the village can speak as well as I do. Except you!” he said. “But why would you want to come back?’ asked Harini.

Lamps in Chandrapur


“I want to come back because I want everyone to learn and work hard and become like you!” he said. Harini was at a loss for words. She had not realised she had set a benchmark for Jeevan. Vishwajeet looked at his daughter proudly. She was very hardworking, and she deserved this holiday at home. The only thing that worried him, was the electricity. The entire village had been covered in darkness since monsoon had begun. This was not something he expected to be resolved soon. Just then, Jeevan lit another lamp on the kitchen table. Vishwajeet Uncle smiled. He waited for his turn as Jeevan served them hot lunch.

***

Of Truth and Lies


“Honesty is a very expensive gift. Don’t expect it from cheap

people.” ~ Warren Buffett

***

Of Truth and Lies

It took all six of them to track Deepak down. They spread out into the neighbourhood in teams of twos, asking about him, enquiring about him, giving descriptions of his looks to all the regular shopkeepers and the people who used the lane near the Red Fort regularly to commute up and down every day. Finally, one day, Sonia caught sight of him walking down the lane. It was evening time and all six of them had just gathered to think about the next step towards finding Deepak. Raju gestured everyone to stay quiet and alert. He knew at once that Deepak would run for it if he saw all six of them together.

Of Truth and Lies


So he asked Arpan, Feroz and Faiza to hide behind a shop in the lane. They managed to do so without attracting Deepak’s attention. Raju then asked Sonia to go ahead alone first and stop Deepak. They would join her later from behind. Sonia instinctively understood the plan. She was a brave girl as well. Without a hint of worry or insecurity, she strolled past Deepak pretending to not notice him at all. Deepak saw Sonia walking by him alone on the road. Either he was very, very brave, or plain stupid in his arrogance about getting away with his lies and tricks on other children. For the slightest second, he hesitated. Then, he stopped Sonia. As soon as Sonia turned to meet him, Raju signaled Deepu to come with him. They went up from behind and slapped Deepak on the back, circling him from three sides, Raju, Sonia, and Deepu standing as pillars blocking his way. “What’s up, Deepak? Where are you, my friend?” Raju said, slapping him on his back in a friendly manner. Only a tad bit harder than he was supposed to. “I have been here only. Where have you all been? Where’s my Kohinoor diamond?” Deepak retorted, being

Of Truth and Lies


defensive, realising he had been tricked this time by the three children. Raju shook his head unbelievingly. He looked at Sonia and Deepu. “This is what you expect from cheap people,” he said. “Lies though their teeth,” he said. “Lies? You are the ones who took my diamond! I trusted you with it and you gave me nothing in return for it except to steal it from me and not bother to return it back to me!” Deepak said, continuing with his bag of half-truths and full lies. “Own up, Deepak! Stop lying to yourself!” said Deepu to him, shaking him by the shoulder, almost as if trying to wake him up from sleep. “To what? What are you talking about?” Deepak went on and on, consistently building up on his own falsehood. Raju decided there was no point in talking to Deepak anymore. He signaled to the three hiding behind the shop, watching them closely to come join them. Deepak immediately saw what Raju was doing. When he saw the other three children walking up to them, he grew pale. It seemed that he would make a dash for it, but the other three were quick in forming a stronger ring with Raju, Deepu and Sonia.

Of Truth and Lies


Now it was almost impossible for Deepak to run. He was surrounded from all sides. “Who are these three? Why have you got them here?” Deepak asked Raju. Sonia could not believe her ears. She signaled to Raju if she was hearing him right. Raju nodded his head. He was finding it difficult to believe that Deepak could lie so much as well, despite being confronted by all six of them together. There was no option but to take Deepak home. The adults would know what to do with him. Little did Deepak realise that if he had admitted to having tricked the six children, they would have forgiven him. Little did he realise that they would have acknowledged his very expensive gift to them – that of being honest about his tricking people with his lies about the Red Fort – and he might have been forgiven by the adults of the neighbourhood as well.

***

Dora Doll at the Beach


“The only way to get love is to be lovable. It's very irritating if you have a lot of money. You'd like to think you could write a check: 'I'll

buy a million dollars' worth of love.' But it doesn't work that way. The more you give love away, the

more you get.” ~ Warren Buffett

***

Dora Doll at the Beach Lavanya stood at her bedroom window. She could hear the waves splashing on the rocks, going up and down early in the morning. It was serene. There were some sea birds parachuting above the sea waves too. Lavanya followed them with her eyes. She felt good. And at quiet peace. Only when she looked at the sea birds, she felt a pang somewhere inside her. How she wished they would bring back her two Dora dolls, the ones she had thrown in the sea in a fit of anger when she had come back from the Dora Doll party.



She had been watching the Dora Doll cartoons on television, missing her two dolls ever since the party. And staying away from her ‘best friends’ at school after the party. She did not know if she was correct in doing so, but she was reminded of the party whenever she saw them. She felt hurt and anger inside, and thought it best to quietly avoid the girls in school who had been rude to her. Lavanya turned away from her window. She had been spending a lot of time thinking to herself there off late. She began walking towards the bathroom for her shower, and just then, she stopped herself. She ran quickly back to her window. She thought she had seen something. It could have been a figment of her imagination, but clearly, it was not. She saw a girl playing on the beach. With what looked like a Dora Doll to her. Lavanya leaned out of the window further to get a better look at what she saw. She thought she could see a girl building a house with a Dora Doll next to it, but she wanted to be sure. She quickly ran towards the dining hall towards the main door. Her mother shouted after her. “Where are you running away?” asked her mother. “Dora Doll is on the beach, Mom!” she said loudly, banging the door behind her.



Down she ran the stairs and towards the beach and that girl. She slowed down only when she got close to them, huffing and panting from the effort. The girl looked up at her and smiled. “You want to play with me?” she asked Lavanya. Lavanya was surprised. She nodded her head, a little wary of this friendly girl. She had been hurt before. But she completely forgot about it all when she saw the Dora Doll. It was exactly like the one she had thrown away in the sea. “I found this Dora Doll while swimming in the sea one morning,” said the girl. “She was lovely and I thought maybe she needed a home.” “So you are building a home for her?” asked Lavanya. The girl laughed prettily. “Yes, I build a home for her every day when I come to the beach. I think she likes it that way, since I found her in the sea, I don’t really know where her real home is.” “Can I help you make a home for her?” Lavanya asked. “Sure! Let’s play!” said the girl. “Am Lavanya! And you?” asked Lavanya.



“Am Samridhi” said the girl. Lavanya smiled at her and began combing Dora’s hair with her hands. After a while, she said, “You know Samridhi…I have a comb for Dora, and some other things too, like dresses and things she likes. You see, I had a Dora Doll exactly like this one which I threw in the sea because I was angry. Now she’s gone missing. Can I get those things tomorrow, if you are here tomorrow, to play with as well?” Lavanya asked. Samridhi smiled glowingly at Lavanya. She put an arm around Lavanya. “Sure Lavanya! That would be lovely! And are you sure this is not your Dora Doll? There can’t be too many angry Lavanyas throwing their dolls in the sea on this beach, can there?” she teased Lavanya. Lavanya laughed. She liked Samridhi a lot already. “You found her. She is yours. I’ll just come and play with you and her when you come to the beach,” said Lavanya. Then impulsively, she gave Samridhi a hug. “Thank you for rescuing my doll” she said. Samridhi hugged her back. Lavanya said bye to her and got up to run towards home.



All the riches in the world could not have described the joy and love Lavanya felt while going to her home. Lavanya was lovable, yes. But it was for the first time ever that she had met someone who she wanted to give her doll to, without thinking about how many dolls or things or clothes she had as compared to her. And it was really for the first time, that she had felt loved. By someone who she could already count on as a friend. She got to her bedroom window and looked out, only to see Samridhi already waving at her from the beach. Lavanya waved back and blew her a kiss. Samridhi picked up the Dora Doll and did a funny dance with her. She made Dora Doll wave back at her. Lavanya could have sworn she saw both Samridhi and Dora Doll wink back at her.

***

Finding an Edge


“If you play games where other people have the aptitudes and you don’t, you’re going to lose. You’ve got to figure out where you’ve got

an edge. And you’ve got to play within your own circle of

competence.” ~ Charlie Munger

***

Finding an Edge The dorm was asleep. Even when the morning alarm went off. Some of the girls shifted around in their beds. It wasn’t easy getting up at five o’clock when everyone had stayed up till 4 am. 6 o’clock. Only one girl sat up in her bed and panicked when she saw the time. Everyone in the dorm, all four of them, were going to miss the first class. Well maybe, even the second and third one, if they snored away like this, Sheetal thought.

Finding an Edge


She quickly made her bed and rushed about getting ready for college. She kept waking up everyone in the room, whispering, then finally shouting out to Radha, Priya and Katyayani that they were going to miss Ms. Manichand’s lecture. The three other girls seemed unaffected. Which was unsurprising. Only Sheetal seemed to want to get to her first class as soon as possible. College life had seriously affected her sleeping patterns. And her attendance. Which was dwindling day by day. She attended her first lecture, snoozing through it all. Her professor didn't even seem to mind. Sad to say, but this was the scenario in one of the leading colleges, where the professor carried out her lecture in a loud drone without bothering to interact or respond to the sleepy faces in class. No wonder absolutely no one wanted to attend Ms. Manichand’s lecture. Except for attendance. And Katyayani, Radha and Priya did not even care about that. It was only Sheetal who rushed for the first class every day. And yet, her attendance was dwindling. She was trying to think why after she got up when Ms. Manichand left the hall. The other three girls never seemed to attend any classes. Yet, they weren’t as badly off as her.

Finding an Edge


She had tried to imitate them and not attend her classes as well. They seemed smart, and exams and term papers were never a problem for them. Sheetal had tried to compete with them their way. She had found out that the consequences of doing so were seriously damaging to her grades, and her reputation. Time and again, she heard the words, “We didn't expect you to score so low,” from batchmates, other girls in the hostel, even her warden. When the principal of the college had asked her to see her in her office, all hell had broken loose for Sheetal. She had always aced school in her exams. Somehow, she was not being able to keep up with college life. Or so she thought. It wasn’t that Sheetal did not have the brains to compete with her dorm mates. She just wasn’t used to working the way they would – staying up late at night, not attending lectures, and mind you, important lectures, the ones everyone complained about. Added to that, her dorm mates were multi-talented. Dance, music, debating, creative writing and sports, all three of them were constantly engaged in college extra-curricular activities. It was only later that Sheetal realised she did not have the edge these girls did, and imitating them had been a bad idea to begin with. They easily got compensated for attendance on basis of their performance in extra-curricular activities in their college.

Finding an Edge


Sheetal, on the other hand, was still struggling to cope with the late nights, a lot of fun, yes, but ultimately, being unproductive. That were telling on her health and routine as well. Not to mention her academic pursuit and of course, her attendance. She was most worried about being shamed for being irregular, and creating the impression that she was making bad grades due to her sloppiness in attending lectures. When the others could manage, why couldn’t she? Clearly, she wasn’t thinking straight. She finally had to visit the college counsellor to seek help for her failing performance. When she told the counsellor about her dorm mates, the counsellor knew immediately how to tackle Sheetal’s situation. “Is this your first time in a hostel away from home?” the counsellor asked. “Yes” said Sheetal. “Okay. And your dorm mates?” asked the counsellor. “No really, no. Actually, all three of them have been to a hostel while they were in school” Sheetal said. Something

Finding an Edge


was dawning on her. And it had begun showing on her face. The counsellor led her to the right answers. “Sheetal, I think you are understanding that they are used to managing their bad routines and still performing well at the institution. They have what is called an edge over you. They seem cool and smart, easy going, yet performing well, and you want to be like that, don’t you?” the counsellor asked. “Yes,” Sheetal admitted. “Yes, but you have come straight from home, so your habits have been different from theirs. I am not saying those are the habits you should choose, all I am saying is that you are all young, and young people these days do have the comfort of juggling their unlimited fun with their careers and professional choices. It’s not wrong to want to play that game too. It’s just that you are not going to like it if I tell you that it takes years to get used to that sort of a lifestyle. And you will lose out on your college performance if you start now,” said the counsellor. Sheetal let that sink in. She went for her next question. “Okay. So what do I have an edge at?” she asked the counsellor. She immediately interrupted him and spoke for herself. “I’ll figure it out. I think I have already,” she

Finding an Edge


said. She thanked the counsellor over a cup of tea and some more conversation about her family back home. She left the counsellor’s office and went straight to the library. And Sheetal spent her days in the library. She knew her edge the minute the counsellor had guided her towards what she should have seen in herself. She loved reading. She could read books and books, and so fast, that she had been known in her school to finish two fat books a day, along with obtaining stellar grades in her report cards. She carefully chose her extra-curricular activities. The college Book Club was more than happy to have her on board. She also participated in the college NGO program that was involved in teaching children with learning disabilities how to read and learn through books. Before her second-year exams, Sheetal had recovered from the shock of failing to do well at her new college. She had figured her circle of competence.

***

The Old Books


“I think track records are very important. If you start early trying to have perfect one in some simple think like honesty, you’re well on your way to success in the world.”

~ Charlie Munger

***

The Old Books

Kishen went up to the book shelf in the library and put the book he was reading back. He wasn’t even tempted anymore. It had been three months since he had returned all the books of the school library he had taken home with himself. His grandfather had been wondering where he was getting all the books from. These looked like old books to him, not new ones with shiny new covers. More importantly, why was Kishen keeping them for months at end. “Friends,” Kishen has said monosyllabically. He was fond of reading. And these were just books.

The Old Books


Funny thing was, his grandfather thought to himself, there was little value for books now amongst, largely, young people. Which is why he had not noticed the pile of books climbing steadily up a wall till Kishen proudly proclaimed they were all his. Questioning Kishen had not been easy. He had yielded one word, and had completely shut his mouth to any sort of cajoling. It was only when his grandfather turned to the books to pick them up that Kishen had protested loudly. And in one breath, told his grandfather everything. He was taking the books from the school library and keeping them. Nobody had asked him even once at school about a single book. Not even the school librarian. Kishen’s grandfather gave him one of his books to read. The book was titled ‘My Experiments with Truth.’ Kishen knew at once who it was by, though he had never read the book. He quickly devoured the book. When his grandfather poked around his room to see if he was doing fine, since he had been gone a long while and was silent as a mouse, Kishen looked up at him from the book with tears in his eyes. His grandfather came and hugged him. Kishen’s grandfather knew that Gandhi would have an impact on Kishen. That Kishen would take the first step

The Old Books


and return the books to the school library himself without being asked was not something that his grandfather had expected. He had wished it, yes. And his wish had come true. The old librarian at the school library was shocked, to say the least. “That’s very brave, I must tell you that Kishen. However, I will have to report this to the school authorities,” he told Kishen. Kishen nodded his head. He wasn’t feeling very brave, but he knew it was the right thing to do. He didn’t want to meet the Principal though. Or face any of his teachers when they got to know that he was taking books without returning them from the school library. The day went by at school with Kishen anticipating punishment, anger, admonishes from everyone around him. To his surprise, nothing happened. Kishen got ready for school the next day. He was feeling a little braver, but he still didn't feel like going to school. He didn't even look at the school library do when he went past it. He didn't even stop when he heard his school librarian yell out his name.

The Old Books


“Kishen! Kishen!” shouted the school librarian. Kishen finally heard his name being called out after the fifth attempt. He turned around and went up wordlessly to the old librarian. “Aren’t you going to come to the library? You have a free period, right?” asked the librarian. Kishen looked up at him disbelievingly. Did he hear him correctly? Wasn't he going to punish him for taking books away from the library? The old school librarian took him by his arm and led him towards the library. It was that day, and today, three months from then, when Kishen remembered how he used to feel while picking up a book to take home without telling anybody. He was very happy he did not feel like stealing books anymore.

***

The Correct Time


“No matter how great the talent or efforts, some things just take

time.” ~ Warren Buffett

***

The Correct Time

The sky had stopped sending rolls of dark clouds to Chandrapur. The weather was like the lull, but after a storm. And so was the landscape in Chandrapur. The monsoons had stripped bare the lack of basic amenities in Chandrapur with even more intensity than every year. The potholes and flooding in Bombay did not compare to the severity of electricity and supply of food to this small town close to the financial capital of India. Jeevan, though, was on a roll, on ground. He actively spearheaded a project to provide basic amenities in Chandrapur, and build a strong mechanism to tackle the monsoons there. Harini had gone back to her school. She had helped Jeevan immensely by encouraging him, giving him more English

The Correct Time


lessons every day, and taking care of the house, supervising him with her meticulous plans, thinking ahead of every rainy spell. Vishwajeet could not have been more satisfied by the two little ants in his house, working away and setting an example for the rest of the town. Jeevan titled his community project Project Suvidha, and started gathering people and resources to solve the basic problem of electricity supply in Chandrapur. He set up different departments to look into finding solutions for generating electricity for the entire town. He especially tapped on all the educated youth in the town, and took advice from the elders of the village. He would devote at least ten to twelve hours of work every day towards Project Suvidha. A month passed. Then two. Nobody was close to finding a proper method that would give sustained electricity to the town without hiccups. Five months later, they had some experiments and no results dampening their spirits. One day, after a particularly bad day, Jeevan came back home, tired after working so hard, with the goal post nowhere in sight. Vishwajeet knew in his own quiet way what was bothering Jeevan. But he was waiting for Jeevan to come to him and explain the situation to him. That Jeevan would have talked to Harini himself was natural, and Vishwajeet

The Correct Time


knew Jeevan hesitated to talk openly with him, there was a certain distance of age and respect between them, which was natural too. Only sometimes, this distance had to be covered. Never failing Vishwajeet’s expectations. Jeevan sat down next to him after dinner. Vishwajeet took the opportunity to break the comfort of the silent understanding between them. “You don't look too happy these days, Jeevan,” Vishwajeet said. “I feel as if we are going nowhere. Despite tremendous effort and the best talent in town putting their heads and hands together every day towards realising Project Suvidha, we have literally come up with nothing,” he told Vishwajeet. “What seems to be the problem?” asked Vishwajeet. “It seems we are going round and round in circles and coming back to zero, every time we attempt another experiment at generating sustained electricity. We get to a point where we can generate it for some time. But after a while, our best models give up on us,” he said, clearly. “Hmmm. And you have separate departments handling different sources and methods of generating electricity?” Vishwajeet asked.

The Correct Time


“Yes. Each team is strong,” said Jeevan. “Okay. How long has it been since you have spearheaded Project Suvidha?” asked Vishwajeet. “Five whole months” said Jeevan. “Rome wasn’t built in a day,” said Vishwajeet slowly, patting Jeevan on his back. “I understand that. But is there anything we can do to reach our goals faster? Are we lacking something?” he asked. “It’s only a matter of time, Jeevan. Sometimes, the best brains and unbeatable hard work yields results only after a certain length of time. It’s a law in nature. Nothing comes quickly,” said Vishwajeet. Jeevan understood. He got up and walked slowly around the room. He had finally understood another dimension to life, through the experience of building something for Chandrapur. Time. One had to wait for the correct time.

***

The Science Project


“Develop into a lifelong self-learner through voracious reading;

cultivate curiosity and strive to become little wiser every day.”

~ Charlie Munger

***

The Science Project Shanti read every possible book in her book shelf on how to make rockets. She wanted to build one for her Annual Science Fair at school with eco-friendly fuel. But all her books could not help her. There were detailed theory and practical lessons but the material was unavailable. Shanti’s parents tried hard to fulfil her dream, but in vain. Shanti wanted little of their help, she knew they would do anything for her, but she wanted to collect the material and make the space rocket herself. At last, she found a book in her favourite bookstore. It was a tiny book with projects one could do at home with waste material. There was a plastic cold drink bottle rocket design as well. She eagerly looked at the price of the book. Her mother watched her curiously. Without a word, her

The Science Project


mother took the book out of her hand and bought it for her. Shanti read the book in bed at night. She tucked it away under her pillow and got up early next morning to collect all the material for the project. Everything was available at home. She did not have to ask her parents to buy anything more for her at all. She filled a cold drink plastic bottle with water so that it could balance well enough on the grass outside her house. The bottle was inverted, and she filled it to one third of the bottle’s depth. She put tape markers on the bottle to make three equal parts outside the bottle. Then she took a vegetable bag, a soft thermocol one and made a parachute out of it. She cut the bag in half, tied four strings to the bottom of the cut half and attached the bottom of the bottle to the parachute with strongest kite flying thread she could find. She folded the parachute into a square. The parachute had to open only when the bottle rocket had shot up to its maximum height.

The Science Project


She attached three plastic wings cut in triangles to the base of the bottle and put the parachute on the cap of the bottle by opening one end of the square fold and crushing the parachute down in place to make the whole apparatus steady. Now she held her breath. The rocket was ready. Now she had to make a rocket launcher. There was a second volume of the book she had not bought in her excitement to study the book her mother had bought for her, she was upset with herself. Her other came home at night to see her a bit distraught. He asked her mother what happened. Shanti’s mother told him they had not bought the entire set of books in the series. Shanti’s father went up to her and hugged her. “You just got wiser Shanti. It’s a good way to begin to understand yourself,” he said happily. Shanti looked up at him curiously. She had been playing with her spoon on her plate of food. “You are a reader. Read more and more and learn to analyse and understand yourself and the world. You are a curious and excited little girl.

The Science Project


It of course, made you overlook a detail. But hasn't it made you understand the importance of detailing, even when you browse books?” he asked. Shanti hugged him back. Maybe it was true about her Dad. What Mom said every day. He was truly the best Dad in the world.

***

Arjuna’s Story


“You know the old saying: “To the man with a hammer, the world

looks like a nail.” This is a dumb way of handling problems.”

~ Charlie Munger

***

Arjuna’s Story Satyarth was staring at the TV screen. He could not take his eyes off the bow and arrow that Arjuna, the Pandava king, had stretched in order to shoot a bird in the tree. “What do you see Arjuna?” asked Dronacharya, his teacher. “I see the bird’s eye Master,” said Arjuna. Satyarth sat still even as Dronacharya said, pleased, “You may shoot the arrow Arjuna.” And Arjuna shot it. And it went and hit the bird right in its eye. Satyarth let out a whoop. He was in awe of Arjuna’s character in the TV series he had been watching. He got

Arjuna’s Story


up and began shooting fake arrows in the air all around the drawing room. Satyarth’s aunt had been watching him. She called out to him and asked him to sit with her. “Come. Explain this story that you just saw on TV to me,” she said. “Look at his focus Aunty! He sees only what he wants to see when he is with a bow and arrow. What a true genius!” said Satyarth. “Absolutely!” said his Aunt, pleased. “Wait, wait! Not so fast! I’ll tell you about something that I read today. A quote from Charlie Munger, the famous investor from America your father has been admiring ever since he has read about him,” said Satyarth’s mother. “But why Charlie Munger now? When we are talking about Arjuna,” said Satyarth. “Because he says something that reminded me exactly of Arjuna. I have grown up on Arjuna’s stories as well, my boy,” said Satyarth’s mother. “What does he say?” asked Satyarth, now curious.

Arjuna’s Story


“He says, and am quoting him; You know the old saying: ‘To the man with a hammer, the world looks like a nail.’ This is a dumb way of handling problems,” narrated Satyarth’s mother from a book she had bought to the dining table. Satyarth thought for a bit. Then he asked his mother, “You mean to say that Mr. Munger could mean that Arjuna’s way of handling situations is a dumb way of looking at things? That, one should be like Yudhishtir? I can see the bird, the tree, the sky and your feet Master,” said Satyarth, imitating Yudhisthir’s voice, the one he had heard on TV. “A well-rounded way of looking at things is sometimes required too, Satyarth,” said his aunt, gently to him. “Yes. Maybe Yudhisthir has a larger focus than Arjuna, don’t you think?” said his mother, supporting his aunt. “But look at the context. It was a bow and arrow lesson. And look at the old saying that Charlie Munger talks about. It is dumb, come to think of it,” said Satyarth. “How?” asked his mother. “Well, Mr. Munger is saying that a person in possession of one tool looks at the world in one particular way. That’s quite different from our stories about Arjuna and Yudhishtir, don’t you think?” asked Satyarth.

Arjuna’s Story


Just then, the milkman came. The door was open. They watched him as he silently went in the kitchen, poured the milk in the container kept on the counter and left, shuffling to put on his shoes at the door. “See! Look at that! Focus is what we were talking about in Arjuna’s story. The milkman knows his tools and how to utilise them. Arjuna knows his tools and masters shooting. Yudhistir sees things holistically and becomes a leader, guiding his younger brothers, and their kingdom. That’s the dominant take away from their stories,” said Satyarth. “And Charlie Munger is correct. He is saying that a person with one tool should not see the whole world through the lens of his one tool. Therefore, a man with a hammer should not, his sphere of utility. The entire world cannot be handled efficiently through his one tool alone,” said Satyarth. “Exactly how I make a mistake in my English lesson if I try and pronounce ‘but’ and ‘put’ the same way. The vowel ‘u’ has two different utilities in pronunciation. So we can produce two sounds from it and create a multiple number of words. But we need other vowels too to make more words, as there is the sound of ‘o’, the sound of ‘a’ etc. Say, if I need to say Attack! I need the vowel ‘a’,” he added. With that, he began whooping and shooting bows and arrows in the air again. His aunt and mother stared at each

Arjuna’s Story


other. They were truly at a loss for words for the time being. Satyarth had once again won a round in wordplay on the adults.

***

Pratibha Adoption Centre


“Should you find yourself in a chronically leaking boat, energy devoted to changing vessels is

likely to be more productive than energy devoted to patching leaks.”

~ Warren Buffett

***

Pratibha Adoption Centre Pratibha Adoption Centre was a big house right in the middle of a housing society. It had a reputation for providing excellent health and education care and services to the children living in what everyone in the society assumed was s second home for them. The children at the adoption centre used to play in their compound in the evening. Sometimes, they used to play outside their compound in the lanes of the housing society as well. Shuttles flew in the air as makeshift nets were put up at all levels on the road, tied to street lamps, to let children of all ages play. The housing society children, however, kept to themselves and their own apartments. They had been told not to mingle with the children at the Pratibha Adoption Centre by the adults in the society.



Children being children, they would admire the adoption centre children when someone smashed a shuttle exceptionally well. And clap their hands for them. But everyone knew it would be disastrous if this line was crossed. Nothing beyond admiring and acknowledging each other, whenever they could. They wanted to play together. It was more than obvious to the adults in the society. Mr. Vidyarthi shook his head firmly at another housing society meeting that was held regarding the subject of letting the children living in apartments play with the children of the adoption centre. Only a few parents were willing to let the children be. The majority was satisfied with the rules of the housing society management. They had no qualms about smiling and saying appreciative things about the adoption centre when they went out to their offices and met their friends outside the housing society. They all knew the centre had a reputation in the city of Bangalore. It had been covered by many news channels as an example of an institution that had been run efficiently and provided excellent facilities for over a decade now to the children living on its premises. But, there were layers of uncertainty and doubt that covered all facets of the thinking behind what was, typically, a notion shared by many in the housing society.



So what if it was a well reputed place! Those children were ‘different’. Logic was applied to conversations about this ‘difference’. The adoption centre children were like temporary residents in the colony. They would not grow up with their children the way other apartments’ children would. And things like that were spoken of in drawing room conversations all the time. Mr. Prabhat, the person who had been running the adoption centre, knew these conversations by heart. He also knew how badly it affected the children at the adoption centre. He tried many a times to ease the parents’ anxieties with his own logical reasoning. “These children have homes too. It’s just that these homes are waiting for them,” he would say softly at the housing society meetings. This one refrain fell on deaf ears in the meetings almost all the time. For the parents, the adoption centre was real. In front of their eyes. And the children living at the centre did not have homes of their own. For them, it was quite romantic of Mr. Prabhat to talk about homes in waiting.



Children being children. One day, the adoption centre children were playing on the lanes of the housing society. One of their shuttles fell inside Dheeraj’s compound. Dheeraj was 7 years old and an avid badminton fan. He had a racket in his hand, he had been playing in his own compound. He picked up the shuttle lying at his feet, went out on the lane and started playing with the centre children on that court. He was happy. He had been wanting to play with them for a long time. That very night, Mr. Prabhat was given strict notice by the housing society management to not let their children play on the lanes of the housing society anymore. The adoption centre children started playing in their compound. Dheeraj couldn’t resist another game with them. Days passed by. The adoption centre children did not come out to play anymore. He and his friends hatched a plan. They went up to the compound and challenged them to a match. That day, the gates of the adoption centre were used as a net between the two sides. Rules got stricter. Mr. Prabhat was flatly told that his adoption centre children were not allowed to play in the evening outside in the compound.



Contesting this did not help him. He was shouted down in the housing society meeting continuously till he could take it no more. The day dawned when Mr. Prabhat shifted his entire batch of children at the adoption centre into a new house, away from the housing society, with a bigger compound and push green trees around. His house was in a remote area with no people around.

***

The Bike with No Wheels


“Whenever you think that some situation or some person is

ruining your life, it is actually you who are ruining your life. Feeling

like a victim is a perfectly disastrous way to go through life. If you just take the attitude that

however bad it is in any way, it's always your fault and you just fix it as best you can - the so-called ‘iron prescription’ - I think that

really works.” ~ Charlie Munger

***

The Bike with No Wheels Sahar was five. And he could not ride a bicycle. Not the full-fledged, grown up bike. But a smaller version without the supporters.



All the children teased Sahar every day about still using supporters for his bike. And the more they teased him, the more he sulked in his room. He did burst into tears as well every evening when his Dad removed the supporters and held his bike from behind, running behind him till he got some wind in his pedal. However, as soon as his Dad left him, he would look back and crash on the dirt track in the stadium. The bruises were not as many as were the tears after every fall. But Sahar just would not learn. “Sahar has a tricycle,” said Farida and burst out laughing, as she rode past him on her bicycle. She was six years old. And she knew how to balance her bicycle beautifully. Sahar slowed down and turned his bicycle around. He had had it. He was not going to ride his bicycle out in the stadium anymore. He was going home. “I don’t want to ride my bike anymore. Give it away,” he told his mother stubbornly. He crossed his hands across his chest and looked ready to throw the biggest tantrum of his life. “Sure. Let your Dad come,” said his Mom.



Sahar didn't get a chance to throw a tantrum. He sulked and went to his room. He had no plans of coming out till he felt hungry. And hungry he felt in the middle of the night. When he sneaked to the refrigerator to get some bread and a cheese cube to eat, because that is what he felt like eating. He saw a huge object covered with a cloth right in the middle of the drawing room. Sahar was scared. He thought it was a ghost. But the object didn't move. He felt a little bolder after some time. He sneaked up to the object. It wasn't moving. He took off the cloth in one go. And saw a beautiful, shiny new bike glistening in the night light in the drawing room. Sahar was surprised. He did not know whose bike this was. He certainly hadn't asked for one. He took his bread and a cheese cube from the refrigerator and went back to his room. After chewing like a little mouse on his cheese cube, he slept off. “Surprise!” someone shouted in his ears the next morning.



Sahar got up with a jump. The bike he had seen the night before in the drawing room was standing in his room. His Dad was standing next to his bed. “Dad!” Sahar whined. He wanted to sleep some more. “You have a new bike!” insisted his Dad. Sahar looked at it. “But it has no support wheels!” whined Sahar, again. “Precisely! You are on your own!” said his Dad. Sahar did not understand his Dad. He did not want to. He also did not want to move out of his room. So the bike and he stayed in the room. Hour after hour, till afternoon. Then evening. By evening, Sahar had had it again. He took his new bike out in the stadium without his Dad. He climbed his bike and tried to ride it. He fell. He tried again. Almost an hour went by. Sahar was full of bruises went he went back home. The other children had been watching him. Particularly Farida. She had a wrinkled-up nose as she saw him turn back for home, which turned into a smile. For the first time since she had known Sahar, she was proud of him.

***

The Right Way


“You only have to do a very few things right in your life so long as

you don't do too many things wrong.”

~ Warren Buffett

***

The Right Way

Mr. Ramshankar came back home. To Old Delhi. It was just the same. The same roads, the same cars, the same station and the same old bus stops with rickshaw pullers sauntering near their cycle drawn passenger carts under the sun. He climbed past the sea of people lying on the pavement. It was 4 am. Cold nights in Old Delhi were icicles for the moving. Those in sleep felt the frozen knives even more so. Mr. Ramshankar waited before hailing a rickshaw. He contemplated going to his school directly to talk to the Principal, the wait would be a few hours long at the chai shop near the school. Or he could go…no. He quickly sat in Hamid bhai’s rickshaw, the old man did not recognise him. At least, he pretended not to.

The Right Way


At the chai shop, the boys who served had grown up. It had been long. Maybe only five and a half years, but 13 years old Sainath was a strapping six-footer now. Wonder what they fed them at the shop except chai. The school bell rang. The children poured into the school gates and put up the usual songs and speeches at the school assembly. A new Physics teacher was talking on the PA system about the mission to Mars. Mr. Ramshankar winced. He remembered his speech, some 6 years ago. On the first Chandrayaan in space. A dozen chai cups and some half a dozen thoughts of quitting his mission later, he finally waded through the locks of the school gates. His legs felt heavy. But the doors opened with ease. Mr. Ramshankar did not look left or right. He headed straight to the Principal’s office, his head bowed, his feet shuffling. He could feel eyes on him everywhere, and he was getting goosebumps through his sleeves. But he walked on. “You did right by coming to me, Mr. Ramshankar,” said the Principal. “How?” asked Mr. Ramshankar.

The Right Way


“You displayed courage and determination that are more than commendable. It must not have been easy to walk in to the school again,” said the Principal. Breaking down. Or crying. Or even tears were not Mr. Ramshankar’s forte. He merely convulsed, his nerves twitching, hands trembling as he waited for the Principal to say what he had been running in his head repeatedly for the past three months. “The idea of coming back after the break was a good one Mr. Ramshankar. Please resume classes from tomorrow,” said the Principal, beaming from ear to ear. Except for the last step, on which his foot slipped slightly as Mr. Ramshankar rushed down the main school staircase, he ran all the way down. He might have been touched seventy. But he could still match the children in the school who would scamper down that staircase every day. He was home. And it had been the right way to do it.

***

The Pond is Not the Sewer


“If you're in the luckiest 1 percent of humanity, you owe it to the rest

of humanity to think about the other 99 percent.”

~ Warren Buffett

***

The Pond is Not the Sewer Hiren and his Dad spoke to Mr. Mirchandani about Moinak every day, ever since he had returned from the hospital. He was wearing spectacles now. And he had stopped going to the pond near Hiren’s apartment. Mr. Mirchandani owned the apartments at Chembur. He had started a school and a college in the area. He was also constructing a sports complex in the apartment block, and his next few residential projects were environment friendly, easy on the pocket apartment blocks in the city that provided housing as he thought it should be. Good use of space, plenty of greenery around, areas where it was possible to play games and sports and in tandem with the earning capacity of a family of four in India. He had solved Moinak’s problem by inviting him to swim in the swimming pool at the sports complex he was



building in the apartment block in Chembur. However, he had not been able to solve his fishing issue. “But he never caught any fish!” exclaimed Hiren, when Mr. Mirchandani, his Dad and he were walking in the apartment complex, on yet another evening. He hurled up his hands in the air as he said that. “But that’s not the point,” said Mr. Mirchandani, hurling up his hands in the air as well, imitating him. Hiren’s Dad grinned when he saw that. He looked at Hiren who was grinning as well. Mr. Mirchandani was childlike. And they loved that about him. He was also humble, and wise. They could not help but feel a growing respect for him day by day, as they walked around the apartment complex for an evening stroll. “You know what happened when Bill Gates came to India? Actually, when he came to Bombay?” Mr. Mirchandani asked Hiren. “No,” said Hiren. “It is said in the book titled The Idea of India that Bombay trembled in his presence,” said Mr. Mirchandani.



Both Hiren and his Dad understood the gravity of the statement. Mr. Mirchandani continued putting eloquently in words what had just run through their minds. “Can you imagine a philanthropist like Bill Gates, a person who cares about what happens to not just his country, but the world, and uses his luck and hard work to make dents into our social and civil problems, visiting Bombay? I have a feeling he must have been horrified to see the city,” Mr. Mirchandani said to himself, and to his listeners who were following his every word. “One can show love and respect for a person of his stature. But after all, he is a human being first. And people like him show the world that they are human and they care about what happens to the planet and all its creatures,” said Mr. Mirchandani. Hiren kicked a stone on the ground. His entire body was filled with disgust, and it showed. But he did not say a word. Mr. Mirchandani coaxed him. “Talk to me Hiren! We need young people like you to get angry with the way we love our country. It seems as if we don't love it at all! Either that, or we take it for granted,” he said.



“Why can’t we have philanthropists in our country like Bill Gates?” he blurted out angrily, the question Mr. Mirchandani had been waiting for. “We do have them. There are Mr. Aziz Premji and Mr. Narayan Murthy too, in this country,” said Mr. Mirchandani. “Yes, but what about Bombay! Isn't this the financial capital of India? Don’t we have some of the richest entrepreneurs and businessmen in the country here?” asked Hiren. Mr. Mirchandani tried to pacify Hiren. “See my young friend. I am one of the lucky few in this country, and the city of Bombay, who then try and do something for all of us with the money that we have earned, thanks to a lot of factors. Hard work, yes. But luck. Especially luck. Believe me, am not the luckiest 1% of humanity. And there are countless like me in India who are lucky. We have a country in which there are least a few thousand millionaires who are say, the lucky 10% of humanity. But there is that lucky 1% of humanity. Who don't just have everything. They have the ability to heal and change the world,” said Mr. Mirchandani.



“We all have the ability to do so. And some of us do, bit by bit, day by day. But these 1% of humanity, do they exist in our Indian society?” he gently prodded Hiren. Hiren nodded. “We do,” he said. “Then, it is up to you to tell them that they owe it to the 99% of humanity to at least think about them. This 1% is the luckiest, mind you. Ask them to share their luck with the rest of the world,” said Mr. Mirchandani. He paused for a bit more, caught a ball that came his way, threw it back at the boys playing cricket in the apartment complex. “Ask them to share their luck with Bombay,” he said. It was Hiren’s turn to throw back the cricket ball at the boys. He flung it high in the air at them and clapped when one of his friends caught it in one smooth move.

***


Dear friends, it’s me again. Keshav. It is not every day that a 13-year old gets to write stories told by his father. And it’s definitely not in the dailiness of us all to want to take a vacation soon after that. I have done the first, and to be quite honest, I need a break. To think about all that I have learnt and how I have been trying to implement it in my life. So I am off for a while. Only to return with some new stories and lots of whole, new little worlds for us to read. Please pray, when you unwind yourselves at night, that somehow, somewhere, Warren and Charlie are reading these too. After all, my third wish has yet to come true. And do write in to me to discuss these stories, have a conversation or two about growing up and if and how these stories help us in some or the other way. Or just, let’s talk through letters. I’d love to exchange ideas, books, just a penned thought or a penciled line with you. Let me know if your Dad and Mom liked these stories, the rest of your family too! This was Part One of Two Wise Men. Part Two is on its way, soon. Oh, and by the way. Am not taking a vacation in the middle of school semesters. It so happens that by the time I come back with another set of stories, I’ll be in Class IX. Yes, a senior, finally, in school.


Good Luck everyone! Goodbye, for now. Cheers, Keshav Bhatia.


Afterword

Dear Young Believer, We hope the stories you have read in this book have helped you learn some of the most important ideas you need to become wiser and happier in life. If you liked what you read, we would love to see you share these stories with your friends and others whom you think would benefit from these. We would also love to hear from you – your feedback, thoughts, and suggestions on the stories in this book, which will help us write better ones in the future. Send us your love and thoughts by email to – [email protected]. Here’s to your wisdom and happiness. Love, Vishal & Vallari Safalniveshak.com [email protected]



About the Authors

Vishal is the founder of Safalniveshak.com, through which he teaches grown-ups how to make sensible decisions with their money. He has been doing this for the past six years now, after quitting his job in the stock market. He found inspiration for this book in his two kids, whom he wanted to gift the worldly wisdom from two of the wisest men to have walked this Earth, in the language they understood best. You can find him on Twitter @safalniveshak. Vallari cooks, cleans and writes short stories most of the day. She spends her remaining time thinking about her dreams, both the ones in her sleep and the ones when she is awake. One of her dreams includes writing a novel on the idea of India for children and young adults. She is somewhere close to that dream after having written Part One of Two Wise Men. You can find her on Twitter @sb_vallari.



[sn] SAFALNIVESHAK.COM

@SAFALNIVESHAK


https://twitter.com/safalniveshak

safalniveshak.com two wise men

Documents