Tears of Joy

Today, I feel like Alok Nath, Nirupa Roy, Geoffrey Boycott and Venkatapathy Raju, all rolled into one.

Today, I know what it must feel like when, as the proverbial doting father in a Bollywood film from the 70s, your little child grows into a strapping young lad/lassie by the time the credits have finished.

Today, I know what it must feel like when, the neighborhood mausi (aunt) comes running in breathless and tells you (the widowed mater), “Aree o Kamla, dekh tera beta aya hai” and you rush outside to find him after years of studies and struggles  – gleaming, decked out, in a police inspector’s uniform. No less.

Today, I know what it must feel like, when the parents from a scene in Bollywood’s 70s to the 90s come and stand in an aerodome’s balcony-cum-viewing area to welcome their daughter who had been sent abroad, watch her come back, all transformed into a ravishing, ultra hot woman with a big straw hat and a foreign degree rolled in her hand.

And I surely know what it must feel like, to start the day off with a 300 ball half-century and then race to a century within another 100 balls. Or take 0 wickets in the first 4 days of a test match and scalp 2 priceless wickets of tail-enders on the last day.

Tears belie my joy and happiness today. For today, garnishednonsense has crossed a 1000 views. In 2 years, out of which more than 1 year was spent in hibernation. Talk about learning to crawl before you start to run.

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