Talkalittledo – For Life Is Funny

Real Life. Real Stories

Archive for the category “Sometimes Sad”

Is This A Miracle?

ID-10034755A few months ago, my sister ran into a friend who was an active member of a social service organisation.  Being my sister, she could not but help tell her about my blog Talkalittledo, where I post unique real-life stories of family and friends.

“Do you have any story that I can share with my sister,” she asked eagerly

This is the tale that the lady told my sister.

Situated in the campus of a well-known school in south India, is a house of worship. Attached to this is an orphanage for poor kids.

Though the main school and the religious domain boasted of concrete buildings, the orphanage itself was lacking in many facilities, the chief among them being a concrete roof. It was only a thatched enclosure.

Some years ago, an American contingent visited them as part of their tour. A lady of Indian origin was among them. She had done her primary schooling in the main school and was eager to visit her alma mater. But she was very much appalled by the dilapidated condition of the orphanage. She said that when she went  back to America, she would harness money to construct the roof of the orphanage.

She returned to her home at the end of her tour.

It was a cold snowy day when her two sons met her to transport her to their town where they had arranged a family get together.

All the way in the car, the woman would not stop talking about the orphanage and how she had promised to help them build the roof.

Halfway through their journey, there were some muffled sounds from the engine of the car they were travelling in. The vehicle stalled and stopped in the middle of nowhere. The woman, without thinking, opened her door and got out to check what was amiss.

That was when the horrible accident took place.

The car coming behind them lost control and slid down the snow and ran over the woman, killing her on the spot.

Everything was over in a minute.

The sons were devastated. Even months later, the two sons kept recalling their mother’s last wish and brooded on it. They decided to do something about it.

They sold their mother’s house. Instead of sharing the proceeds between themselves, they decided to use it to build a roof for the orphanage thousands of miles away, in India.

One of the sons had been married for more than ten years and was desperately trying to have a child. But though all the tests proved positive and showed nothing amiss, his wife was having trouble conceiving.

That son came to India personally, fixed up with some builders and started to build the roof for the orphanage. He stood steadfast in the heat and dust and supervised the work, till it was completed.

It was with a glowing heart that he went back to his country, having fulfilled his mother’s  dying wish.

A month later his wife conceived and gave birth to a lovely baby. And for three years in a row, she delivered three children.

Every year, the son and his wife would come down to India, with their new baby and place the child at the feet of the deity, attached to shrine near the orphanage.

Their three kids had their naming ceremonies in a humble house of God in India….even though they were wealthy US citizens.

Somethings are hard to comprehend.

Especially a miracle from above.

Story By: ARS Chennai. Written by gulsum basheer @ talkalittledo.

Photo credit: stockphotos @

Your Life Can Change Completely In A Fraction Of A Second!

ID-100219244“The moving finger writes. Having writ moves on…Nor all thy tears wash out a word of it.”

Poignant lines by Omar Khayyam!

“Very true,” say my son and daughter in law.

And here is why:

My son and his family have relocated to a different country. Recently they met a family from India, also settled there. They became friends and started dropping in at each other’s houses.

My son and my daughter in law were surprised that the couple had four children with a lot of disparity in their ages. The eldest girl was about twenty years old while the youngest child was just three years old. They also had two sons  who were in their teens.

The mother looked quite young to have given birth to so many children. But they were a loving family and my daughter in law did not suspect anything, till the man narrated his story.

The lady was his second wife.

The man, his first wife and two daughters had lived in this country for more than fifteen years. Their greatest pleasure was a three weeks vacation in India, every year.

In 2010 on their annual visit, they went to a nearby sea town. They took a ferry ride in the sea. That is when fate struck a terrible blow.

The boat capsized. Many people died that day. It was the biggest calamity of the year. My son and daughter in law who were in India at that time remember reading all about it in the papers and being moved by it.

To think that they were meeting one of the survivors!

The man narrated the incidence of that horrible day. “ I saw my wife and youngest daughter being washed away right before my eyes. I barely managed to grab my eldest child and put her into a fishing boat, which came immediately to our rescue. I searched frantically for my loved ones. I saved a few other children. But my child and wife were gone forever. The sea threw up their bodies the next day….”

“Back in this country my child and I could not manage alone. My family in India, urged me to find a wife. They suggested many girls. My heart did not agree to any of them.”

“Then I remembered my  dead wife’s neigbour in our native city. Her husband had died young, leaving her with two sons.”

“Now she is my wife, and her sons are my sons. The last little one born to her, completes our family”

My daughter in law is so much moved by this story that she cannot stop talking about it.

She admires the man for his magnanimous decision while choosing a wife and accepting her sons as his own. She thinks that the two boys have been lucky to have been saved from a life of mediocrity as fatherless boys growing up in a small town in South India.

Mostly my daughter in law’s sympathies are with the stoic  eldest daughter, who lost her sister and mother in one day and within a year, had to welcome some strangers into her home and life, as her new family.

My daughter in law marvels at her new friends and their unity, but each and every time she would finish her story by saying:

“How your life can change completely, in a fraction of a second!”

“Terrible no?”

Story By MFH. Written By Gulsum Basheer@Talkalittleo


Your Life Is Not A Failure.


Do you sometimes think that your life is a failure? Is that really so?

I met Sumathy akka after many years. She was not really my sister. I just called her akka or sister, out of respect.

When I was newly married, I was a tenant at her house. I lived on the ground floor in the front portion of her big house and she lived in the apartment behind mine, with her mother and three sons. Two other families lived on the first floor.

I got introduced to her at a vulnerable period in her life. She had just lost her husband a few months earlier. She was terribly depressed and refused to come to terms with her loss.

I was newly married, and completely naïve (make that ignorant) about cooking and housework.

At first she just stared silently as I struggled with my chores. She could look into my kitchen from the common washing area that we shared.girl-with-kitchen-things-10083162

I was a comedienne of sorts and a chatterbox. I made digs at myself as I went about my work and slowly I was able to draw her into my conversation.

Soon she was giving me tips and helping me out. We became good friends even though there was an age difference of 20 years between us.

Her mother told me one day, her eyes brimming with tears:

“I thank my Gods that they sent you here. My daughter would have wasted away but for your company.”

I stayed in that house for five years and then we were on our way to other cities where my spouse’s work took him.

But when I came to Chennai, I would drop in at the lovely house where I began my married life, to catch up with Sumathy Akka and her sons.

She was proud of the way her sons had turned out. At that time, her first son had married well and she was deliriously happy.

The years rolled by and it was only after ten years that I was able to visit her again.

But this time she was back in square one.

dead-and-dry-tree-is-isolated-on-white-background-100141279Depressed and unhappy!

Just like the first time I had met her.

She was not living in the big house. She had remodeled the garage at the back into living quarters for her self. I was shocked to see her in such sorry confines.

“My life is a failure,” she said as I sat sipping her filter coffee.


I spluttered the hot beverage by the suddenness of her statement.

“I lost my husband when I was 38 years old.  I struggled to get my sons educated.”

“You did a good job of that. I am sure your kids are proud of you.”

“My first son and his family have converted to another religion. “

She mentioned the religion by name.

“I am still a Hindu and they do not want me to worship my Gods in the house. That is why I live here alone by myself.”

“You could move in with your other sons.” I said, trying to be wise. “Where are they?”

“My second son started a business and met with colossal loss. He was even imprisoned for some time. Now he lives in another city and refuses to talk to me. His wife rings me up sometimes, wanting to know what we were going to do with this house, which my sons will inherit after me.”

“What about your third son?”girl-eating-food-with-chopstick-10067550

“He is in Singapore. He has married a Chinese girl.” She said. “I stayed with them for a few days. But she eats fish, prawns and chicken every day. You know I am a total vegetarian.”

“My life is a failure.” She said again and I did not know what to reply.

When it was time for me to leave, I pacified her:

“What your sons make of their life is their problem, not yours. The world has changed so much. Converting one’s religion or marrying a girl from another ethnic community or being a failure at business is not a big crime, you know.  You just keep thinking so.”

Seeing her woe-be-gone face, I started babbling.

“Your life is NOT a failure… You are a grand old lady… You did the best that you could for your sons…now it is time to live life on your terms…enjoy your grand children…make peace with your errant son… visit Singapore again and teach your Chinese daughter-in-law, your vegetarian culinary delights…”

Did I not say that I was a comedienne of sorts and a chatterbox?

She gave a wee smile at my outpouring and walked me to the gate.

I hope I was able to cheer her up.

A little at least.

Just like I did, many years ago.

Story By : AN. Written By; Gulsum Basheer@talkalittledo

By Ohmmy3d,  

By debspoons,

By digitalart,

By tratong,

Train to Trouble.


ID-100386965This gentleman man shares his story with us to create awareness among the youth about drugs and substance abuse.

I shudder when I recollect this story even though it happened many years ago. I don’t want my name mentioned here. I studied in a city college in Chennai. But my house was in Arakkonam, which was about 50 miles from Chennai.

Every morning I would board the electric train from my town and travel to the city and in the evening take the same train back home.

Many students from villages and small towns around Chennai also used the electric train every morning to commute to city colleges and every one seemed to know everybody else on that train. We were like a large gang of friends even though we were from different towns and studied in different colleges.

Close to Chennai there was a prestigious college, where a lot of foreign students studied. They too took lodgings outside the city, as it was cheaper.

The boys from this college were smarter than us country folks. They spoke better English and seemed to have a lot more money than us.

And they all smoked like engines.

Initially I was wary of this crowd. But with the passing months our nodding acquaintance became more than that and we shared jokes and stories about our respective colleges.

They used to offer us cigarettes, which we politely refused.

One evening, those boys offered me a cigarette and when I refused it as usual, one of the guys got angry.

He became sort of maniacal and started to abuse me using strong language. Then he pushed me on the bench and sitting astride me, he pushed a cigarette into my mouth and said, “Take a puff, take a puff”

I coughed and spat and clenched my teeth. But he kept shoving the butt into my mouth and I could  do nothing but take a puff or two.

That’s all I remember.

The next thing I knew, I was waking up in my house with my anxious parents peering over me.

They told me that I had fainted in the train due to exhaustion and some of my college mates who used to board the same train with me, had brought me home.

I had given my family , my friends  and even myself, a very big fright that day. My mother wanted to rush me to the hospital immediately. My father kept giving me suspicious looks and gently probed me later at night about the incident. I stuck to my friends’ story that I had skipped lunch that day and had fainted due to hunger.

The next day, my college friends told me  what happened.  I had been forced to smoke marijuana or some such stuff. Being new to it, I had choked on the fumes. Then when I had tried to get up, my eyes had lolled upwards and I had fallen in a faint.

Seeing me in that state of stupor, the boys had got off the train and escaped. It was left to my friends to take me home in an auto-ricksaw and lie to my parents as to why I was in a faint.

Though I continued to board the same train everyday, those boys never got into the same compartment as me nor did they ever apologize to me.ID-10047032

After that academic year, they were not to be seen at all.

 Thinking back on the event, I realize that I had had a narrow escape.

PS : A word of caution to the youngsters. It is always best to keep away from people who do not seem right to you.

 You know, I could have DIED that day!

Written By : Gulsum Basheer @ talkalittledo

Photo Credit: nitinut @

Photo Credit: digitalart @



A Friend Indeed.


ID-10047252Some real life stories are stranger than fiction. Sometimes you should never question why some things happen in your life because you can never get an answer to that.

I grew up in a middle class family in Ramnad in South India. I had a good friend and we were inseparable, almost joined at the hips. Everyone said that we were more like brothers than friends.

Then my friend met this girl.

You will call me a MCP if I say, “And there started the trouble.”

But that is the truth. My friend fell in love with this girl. He was so enamored with her that he could think and talk of nothing but her.

He proposed to her and she, like a good south Indian girl blushed red and told him, “You will have to come to my parents with a marriage proposal. I cannot do anything against their wishes.”

My friend was afraid to tell his own parents about his love till he was sure of gaining her hand. So he begged me to go and talk to this girl’s parents first to ask for their approval.

Foolishly I agreed to do his bidding. When I approached her parents and told them of my friend’s wish, her parents were very magnanimous.ID-10095385

They neither said yes nor no.

They only said, “We have two daughters. We  cannot get the second daughter married till the first one is settled. Please wait till my eldest daughter is married.”

Would my friend wait? No. He was in a hurry to marry the girl. He was sure that the girl’s parents were just making up this excuse to hoodwink us. He was distraught for many days.

Then he had a brain wave.

“Why don’t you marry the elder sister?” he said. “Everyone says that we are like brothers. Now we can really become brothers-in-law and we can be inseparable even after marriage.”

I balked at the suggestion.

My father was a stern disciplinarian. He was of the old school of thought that ‘like should marry like,’ in the sense that we should marry people of our own caste only.

The girls were from a different caste from mine and the irony was that the first daughter was much older and not that pleasant-looking as her sibling.

But my friend talked me into marrying the girl. And I had to do so without my father’s approval.

My father washed his hand off me. He has not talked to me these past seven years.

Has my friend married my wife’s sister whom he was so crazily in love with?


Two weeks after my wedding, my best friend, the one who swore that we would be inseparable, met with an accident and …DIED!

PS: My wife’s sister is married to someone else now and leads a normal life. Only I am bereft of my friend and cut off from my parents. My wife is a good woman. But still…!

Story By Venu. Written by Gulsum Basheer @talkalittledo


Photo Credit:


An Incredible Story – Why Was I Born Here?


ID-100228315Have you ever wished that you were born somewhere else?  Surely, not this boy!

When I was young it seems I often asked my mother, “Why was I born here, in this house, as your son and not somewhere else?”

Apparently in a Tamil movie I saw, a child badgers his mother with this question and I repeated his act.

Also I had two brothers who were much older to me. I was frequently bullied by them and always treated as a tiny-tot. I often wished I were an only child.

So I asked this question, “Why was I born here, in this house, as your son and not somewhere else?”

My mother being very imaginative fabricated a tale to appease me. She used to tell me this beautiful story of why I was born as HER son and not someone else’s son.

This is her story in her own words:

God made you, a beautiful child. Then he called your Guardian Angel and asked him to find a lovely home to place you in.ID-10069612

The Celestial Being went hither and thither searching for a home for you.

None of the houses seemed to please him

He thought to himself, “This is a very special child. He needs a very good mother to nurture him and love him”

The Angel looked about in different countries and then came to India. He searched in Mumbai, Delhi, Calcutta and many cities in India and finally settled on Chennai.

In Chennai, he went through street after street and selected our street and then our house.

He peered into our home and saw me with your two brothers and said, “What a lovely mother! This is the ideal mother for this child. SURELY this child needs a mother like her to bring him up well.”

Then your Guardian Angel told God about me. God said, “Alright. So be it”

“And Praise be to God, you were born as my son”

ID-100162069My mother used to tell me this story often. I have sat before her enthralled and lapped up this tale countless number of times. I used to love it.

When I was thirteen years old, my father DIED.

My mother was shattered. She clung to her three sons for support. My mother and I grew closer.

When my brothers went to different cities to take up new jobs, my mother was left with just me.

Mine was the shoulder she wept on and mine was the hand that steadied her when she faltered.

Though yet a teenager, I became the man of the house. I was the one who switched off the lights at night and locked the doors. I was the one who reminded her to pay the bills on time and booked the car for service. I talked to the plumber, electrician and mechanic when something was amiss. I stood by her, seeing to every little detail when my two brothers got married.

When I found her getting bored and depressed, I taught her the wonders of the Internet, which opened up a whole new world for her.

Most of all, I was always there for her.

My mother on her part helped me achieve my dream of becoming a doctor.

I am now twenty-four years old. On May 6th 2013, it would be eleven years since my father passed away. We do not mourn his loss as sadly as before. We recollect past events and laugh at the funny moments.

I reminded my mother of the story she used to tell me as a kid, as to why I was born as her son.

Then my mother said that there was more to that story. She said that she had not realized the real climax to that story then. The story has a different ending.

And she finished the story now.

Your Guardian Angel told God that you needed a lovely mother like me.

“This boy needs this mother.” The Angel informed God.

But God in His Infinite Wisdom looked far into the future and said,

“It is the other way round.  SURELY this mother will need  THIS loving child.”

So you were born as my son!

And I thank God every day that you were born as my son.

When my mother ended the story, there was a quiver in her voice and tears in her eyes.

I wiped away her tears and hugged her.

Whether I needed her more as a child or she needs me more now, I cannot say.

But I am glad that I was born here, in this house, as HER son and not somewhere else.

Story By: Shadir. Written By: Gulsum Basheer @ talakalittledo

Photo Credit: Craftyjoe @

Photo Credit:Iamnee @

Photo Credit :Sura Nualpradid @ freedigitalphotos .net


Father Forgive Me.

Can you forgive your father if he deserts you for ten long years? This prodigal father finds that his child does not.

ID-10025365My aunt whom we called  Mami was born after six boys.

When she was a baby, her father, (my grand –father) went to Sri Lanka on business and did not come back for ten years.

In those days, the men from the southern states of India went to Myanmar, Malaysia and Sri Lanka and started a business there. Many of them fared well.

My grand father was not so lucky. He met with failure after failure. He gave up the idea of running his own business and worked in a factory. But he refused to come back to India as a loser.

After ten long years, my father who was twenty-five years old by then, located my grand father with the help of his friends in Sri Lanka and talked him into coming home.

It was a great day for the family. The prodigal father returning home!ID-100225494My aunt who had never seen her dad was the most excited.  She kept imagining what her father would look like. She had seen the fathers of her schoolmates and thought her father would be like one of them.

When their father arrived, her excited brothers brought their sister forward and introduced her to the man who had sired them.

The ten year old was shocked on seeing the geriatric whom people told her was her father.

He was tired, weary, guilty and above all very OLD.

Being the seventh child, her father had been in his fifties when she was born. These ten years of failure and loneliness had aged him even more.

Looking at the elderly person before her, my aunt hid behind her brothers and refused to come to her parent.

She started crying.

“This is not my father. I have seen my friend’s dads. They are all young. This is some sick old man. You are all cheating me.”

She needed a lot of convincing before she would accept the fact that this was indeed her father.

Even then, she never bonded with her father though he lived with the family for many years after that.

She always claimed that her six brothers who adored her were more like a father to her than the ancient man in her house whom every one called FATHER.

Story By : IM – Written By : Gulsum Basheer @ talkalittledo


Photo Credit :



College Guilt Pangs

ID-10075705When I was in College about three decades back, I stayed in the hostel for a couple of years. Our College was known for the tight reign it had on the students, and the hostel had strict rules that we had to adhere to.

We used to have our roll call in the evenings, curfew times, study time, visitor times and yes outing times too. Despite the stringent and suffocating scrutiny that we were subjected to , we knew how to work around the system and have fun.

One of the things we used to do in the evenings on the weekends if we happened to stay in was to sit on the veranda facing the gate and generally  spend time gossiping and giggling. Those of us who were expecting any visitors would be eagerly darting glances at the gate, as any visitor meant getting some home made goodies.ID-100160712

One such evening as were sitting and having fun, we got into a crazy mood. We started singing in chorus. The best part was we were not singing any particular song, but were just singing nonsense. Somebody would say something, others would pick it up and sing it in tune and we would go on adding to that till we got fed up.

One of our friends was expecting her father,who had come from abroad, to visit her that day and as time went by she was getting anxious. Just to pull her legs we instantly made a song and the lines were something  this – “your father is never ever, ever never, never ever never, ever never ever,  going to come”. This we continued singing till she got mad and went away from there. Un fortunately her father never came that day to see her and all of us felt really bad and somehow felt responsible. But this was nothing compared to the gnawing and unshakable guilt we felt when her father died of heart attack a few months later.

This incident left a lasting impression on me and even to this day I dread to say anything negative lest it comes true.

 Story By : Mala Sivaji. Singapore.

Photo Credit: imagerymajestic @

Photo Credit


In College – Make Good Friends.

 ID-10058045Choose your friends wisely, for a man is known by the company he keeps. So is a woman.

When I was in college in the 1970s, we had this girl Bavna (named changed) in our batch who was as beautiful as she was rich. She was the cynosure of all eyes. Girls looked at her with envy and longed to be in her shoes. We thought that she had been offered everything on a golden platter.

Then  she made a wrong friend and spoilt it forever.

This girl, who was the complete opposite of her, in looks and in family circumstances, befriended Bavna and completely changed her.

Bavna who came from a good traditional family was enamoured with her friend’s wild ways. It gave her a kick to break free from norms and do things that she would not have dreamt of doing otherwise in college and outside.

Among the other crazy escapades they got into, one was to ring up random numbers on the telephone and talk to complete strangers. In those days we had no mobile phones nor did the landlines have the facility to check the number of the incoming calls.

Bavna and her friend would meet at Bavna’s house on holidays and without the knowledge of her parents ring up some number on the telephone and make inane conversation with unknown people at the other end of the line. I think they selected the numbers from the telephone directory.

Once they got a young man on the line who was game for some fun. He chatted with them nicely and impressed them and soon Bavna and her friend were calling up this man more often. They would come to college and repeat everything that the man said and say how funny he was and how smart he was.

We warned Bavna to stop talking to him. But her friend would not let her stop.We completely washed our hands off this affair. But Bavna continued with it.

We moved to the second year of our under-grad. One Monday morning, after the weekend break when we came to college, the whole campus was abuzz with the news.

Bavna had eloped with this man!

We were shocked at first but after a few days we stopped bothering. A month later Bavna’s father came to college and met her classmates. Looking at him we knew how much he had been affected by the rash act of his daughter.

He cried.

A great man, as old as our fathers, crying before us affected us badly. He asked only one thing of us, that we advice Bavna to complete her studies. Only from him we knew that the man with whom Bavna had gone was a wastrel and a school dropout. Hooking Bavna had been his ticket to better times. We consoled Bavna’s father as best as we could. But there was nothing that we could do.

Now thirty-five years later, when I repeat this story to my children and tell them to make good friends, they say that Bavna was completely to blame.

 “She should  have known right from wrong,” My daughter insists.

But I tell them that the teens and the twenties are an impressionable age. The choices that we make then, can make or mar our future forever.ID-100217777

P.S: My children also want to know what happened to Bavna afterwards. I tell them that blood is thicker than water and that her father took Bavna and her husband under his wing and helped them in every possible way, till his dying day.

 Story by: Mala. Lancaster, USA………. Written by : Gulsum Basheer @ talkalittledo.

Photo Credit: rakratchada torsap

Photo Credit :David Castillo Dominici @



The Unforgettable Shimla Trip


ID-10011877Life at school is made up of myriad small incidents, some happy and others not so. I can recollect the times that we shook with unbridled laughter. I can also remember the events that numbed us into silence.

Once when we were pretty young and naïve, we were taken on a trip to Shimla. We were travelling in the non-a/c 3-tier compartment of a train. The rattling of the train as it sped along was loudly reverberating. A classmate had brought a tape recorder. But we could not hear anything above the noise.

One of the boys said: “We can only hear the music well, if the windows are all closed.”

It was too early in the day to put all the shutters down. One of the boys had a brainwave. He said that the toilet at the end of the compartment was a noiseless place. So slowly and stealthily we took turns, five or six boys at a time and went to the toilet to ‘listen to music.’ We locked ourselves in the toilet and listened to our favourite songs, trying to stifle our giggles and maintain our balance in the speeding train

Can you imagine what a sensation we caused when a passenger waiting his turn to use the closet, heard music and giggling coming from behind the closed doors.  What a bigger sensation, when we opened the doors and the passenger saw six boys pouring out en masse from a tiny little Indian Type closet! I don’t think I have ever laughed so much as I laughed that day.

That Shimla trip is unforgettable for so many other reasons too.ID-100142115

Four teachers had accompanied us on that trip. One of the masters was a new teacher who had just joined that year. He was the youngest of the teachers accompanying us and we longed to bond with him in an informal way. Initially he was a little quiet and aloof and did not mingle with us easily. But in a day or two, he loosened up and became friendly and by the end of the trip he was almost like ‘one of the boys.’

He played cricket with us. He sang songs, asked riddles, told jokes and even danced the disco with us. In fact he was the ‘life of the party.’

When it was time to leave we were all very impressed with him.

We told him, “Sir you must always be like this, even in class”

He laughed at this and said, “The moment we land in Chennai, I will be a different person.”

The train chugged into Chennai Central station. Many parents had come to pick up their wards. Among the crowd we saw our head master and a few other teachers. We wondered why there was such a large reception committee.

Then we were told why.

The young master’s father had died suddenly that morning. There were no mobile phones then.  So the teachers from our school had come to break the news to him at the station itself and accompany him to his house.

We boys became numb with shock. The words that he had uttered in Shimla had had a prophetic ring to it.

The moment we landed in Chennai, he became a different person.

Just like he had said.

PS: Some years later, when we had completed our +2 and were ready to step out of school , we invited him to spend a day with us. He readily agreed and accompanied a few of us  to lunch and later to the bowling alley in a mall. We  ended the day in an ice cream parlor, chatting and joking.

 It was like we were back in Shimla without restrictions.

And this day ended on a happy note. 

As told by  :  Bharath Shimhan.  Chennai… Written by : Gulsum Basheer @ talkalittledo

Photo Credit:Salvatore Vuono @

Photo Credit :  olovedog @ 










Post Navigation