chocolate!!

                                    The raider 

Rrrrrring ! Rrrrrrrring !! 

The doorbell rings when I am in the middle of something . One is always in the middle of something , right ? Reading Feluda's mysteries , watching netflix horrors , or birdwatching , cooking , cleaning , solving polynomials . 

Ring!! Ring !! Ring !! 

Three short , sharp bells to remind you that you haven't answered the doorbell , in the expected time frame. Has to be youth , with the trademark lack of patience .

The extent of youth hit home when I couldn't see anyone at the door . 

"Hello Aunty !"

Piped up a tiny voice somewhere near my feet . My neighbour's son . Known to be a very naughty specimen of his species ,  has been banned from eating sweets by his concerned mom . Takes the opportunity of them being away at work and rings the doorbell of gullible neighbours , wheedling out sweet treats , turning on his charming dimpled smile . Wearing his school uniform . Must lock the wooden door , upon hearing the school bus , I remind myself . Again . 

"No , I don't have any chocolates ."  The dimple fades .

"Toffee to hoga " He insists , hopefully .

" No toffees either ." 

" There must be some gems lying , somewhere aunty ." ( Gems are Indian M&Ms ) 

The maid stands some few metres away , one foot on the staircase , smiling hesitatingly , shifting his school bag from hand to hand . " Shaurya ! " She calls , ineffectually . 

Her eyes are apologetic . Poor thing . 

"Please open the door aunty ." Last time I opened the door , he discovered coffee bites and got a hiding from his mother , I came to know through the grape vine later . 

No wonder his parents don't come over anymore . This chap will turn his parents into austere ascetics .

My resolution rapidly fading , I open the door and he darts in , like a comet , whirling , opening the fridge door , looking at the dining table . Finding nothing,  lands in the kitchen . I have just dusted a freshly baked plum cake with cinnamon sugar . 

"Yeh kya kai ?" He asks uncertainly , in mildly accusatory tones . 

"Cake hai ," He is not convinced . He looks doubtfully at pieces of dun coloured  plum cake .

"Chocolate nahin hai !!" Despairing and mildly amazed at this world where chocolate free cakes are baked .

"Plum cake hai." I try to educate .

"I know , I know ."  Exasperated . He doesn't know, obviously . Living in a cake-less home . 

"Yeh kya hai ?" He points to the white powdery substance over the cake . Very suspicious . 

"Cinnamon sugar ." 

"Mujhe pata hai ."He didn't know.  Takes a bite and realises that it is sweet after all . 

" Yum ". dashes out , shouting" thank you aunty "over his shoulder . 

Almost running into the maid , consternation writ large over her overworked self . 

She chases him , turns back and gives me a this -never-happened -and has -to -stay -between -us  look . 

I smile back .

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                                                           The saviour 

The importance of a morning walk , in addition to an evening walk was stressed to me , when my diastolic BP shot up , sky high , and refused to fall .

Like a cat stuck high up in a tree, it meowed dire warnings . Triggering endless and futile debates about cardiac insufficiencies and failures .

Hence , a morning walk . At a time when one is likely to lounge with a newspaper  and a hot cup of beverage , I am walking briskly , amongst chirping birds and sweepers raising clouds of dust along with last few month's worth of regrets and dried leaves . 

Kids , brightly dressed in pressed uniforms , are waiting at bus-stops . 

Dogs , however , get into vociferous arguments , and do not shy away from going public with their grievances . That I am scared of dogs , is no secret . 

In fact , I have been a butt of several dog -related humour . I despise them , and they reciprocate this emotion  by chasing me into narrow dark, alleyways . Mostly they block my path , with beseeching eyes . Eyes that look for a dog lover behind the curtain of dog fear that hangs thickly on my pallid face .

I mean , come on , it is not without reason that they are called "canines " . 

So, I am at the end of my walk , and can practically see my home , when my path is blocked by a bitch . She has her udders full . Lactating . Newly born litter . There is nothing scarier than crossing paths with an animal mom. A new mom at that too . All national geographic books and compilations will tell you that .

So , this individual is panting , sitting on her hindquarters , staring at me with that give- me - a -treat -and - i -will -let -you go  look. 

Others would probably circumvent and go around her . Not me . She has a long leg and I do not fancy a paw swipe across my jeans . 

I stand still . Both stare at each other . Stalemate .

Then like benediction , I hear some one shout "Chocolate ." 

I turn my sciatic neck with a painful crack to see an unwashed , groggy ,  one eyed boy looking at me , giving me one -eyed death stare .

"Chocolate ." He shouts again .

"I do not have chocolate . Where is chocolate ?" I reply . Totally confused . I don't know if he wants chocolate from me , or he is giving me one . And pray , why ? 

The dog slowly gets off on its all fours , tail between legs , with almost an audible sigh , gives me a pitiful look and follows the boy .

It is then that it struck me .

The dog was called chocolate .