Christmas Gift For Kids – The Magical Guest

Under a leafless apple tree, sat a little girl named Shrivi. She wore loose, worn-out clothes and torn footwear that barely had soles on them. Her small bare hands looked frost-bitten and she tucked them often under her armpits. Her face looked red and her eyes had a vacant stare as she took in her snow-filled surrounding.

Her stomach growled and she realized she had not eaten since the past two days except a half leftover chapati. For the thousandth time, she wished her father returned from the town where he had gone to sell carpets. He had promised to return within a month with money, food, and clothes. But he didn’t, and they were starving. Her mother was sick, they had no food and perhaps, her father was in trouble.

A tear trickled down her cheek as she remembered her resolve to pick twigs and buy food early that morning. They needed food and oil in their lamp as it was frightening to stay in the dark every night. But unfortunately, it was afternoon and she hadn’t found twigs because of a sudden snowstorm. 

The world looked dark and hopeless.

A gentle tap on the shoulders aroused her from reverie. A tall middle-aged man in a flowing brown beard stood there holding the reins of a handsome brown stallion. What did he want?

“Hello,” he said gently. “Will you please help me?” he asked. Shrivi looked at him with strange eyes. How could she help someone when she herself needed help?

“My horse needs water and rest. Where is your home? Can I stay there for a while? I have a long journey to go and I will leave as soon as the biggest and brightest star in the sky will be visible,” he said politely.

Shrivi reluctantly got up and asked him to follow her. While walking, Shrivi felt bad. She didn’t want the guest to see her poverty and her poor, sick mother but it would be rude to deny help. She was also ashamed that she had no food to offer to the stranger according to the village tradition. In there village, any traveler looking for help, was welcomed as God himself.

“Tell me, little girl, what are you grateful for?” asked the stranger, all of a sudden, while walking towards her hut. 

“How can I be grateful; when I have nothing?” said the girl.

“Well, it’s a game I play with children – The Gratitude Game. Come on, make an effort, just find any reason… even a bad reason to be grateful would be wonderful,” he said.

Shrivi thought for a moment and said, “Well, I am grateful for my legs as I can walk…”

“That’s great, isn’t it?” he said.

The stranger coaxed her on and little by little, she found many other reasons to be grateful for on her way back home – her eyes, arms, her mother, the tree by her hut, her pet hare, mother Earth, the sky…

Lo and behold… she didn’t know how, but by the time she reached her hut, it felt like Summertime. Everything looked magical. The tree and the ground by her house were filled with berries while the sun shone brightly.  

Filling her mouth with berries and offering some to the stranger, she laughed and asked – “What miracle did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything. You did it!” said the strange stranger.

She picked up berries for her mother too and invited the guest inside the hut. 

When they entered the dilapidated hut, Shrivi’s frail sick mother was startled. “Mother, I have brought a special guest. You know he is a miracle man. He and his horse need rest till the evening. He is on his way to meet the holy ‘King of Kings’, being led by the biggest star in the sky.”

Shrivi’s mother hid her anxious emotions and mustered energies to get up and welcome the guest. He looked so grand, dignified, and resplendent while she felt ashamed of her poverty and the humble hut. What would she offer him? She was relieved to see that Shrivi had picked up plenty of berries.

But the guest looked perfectly at home as he rested on the mat which she spread on the floor. Crushing the berries, she made juice for herself and their guest while Shrivi went outside to give water to his horse.

“Thank you for helping me out. In return for your hospitality, I would like to give you something,” said the stranger after a while.

“You are welcome, Sir. But we do not take gifts from our guests. Thank you for the offering.” the lady said politely.

“Well, it’s not riches or money. But just a lesson. Will you accept it?” The lady nodded reluctantly. 

“Well, first tell me one thing – What are you grateful for?” he asked.

“There is nothing to be grateful for,” the lady said, shocked almost angry. She felt it was impolite to ask a poor woman to be grateful when she was suffering so much.

“Believe me, any small thing to be grateful about would work to begin your lesson.” the guest insisted.

The lady thought and thought. But only her trouble, sorrow, and poverty came into her mind. What could she be grateful for when everything looked so dark. Everyone in the whole world was better off than them. What had happened to her husband? Why was God so cruel to them? And then the image of a little girl came into her mind and her perception shifted. “I am grateful for Shrivi,” she whispered.

The wise man coaxed on and the lady found several other little things to be grateful about – the hut, her neighbors, the berries… While talking about those little things, she smiled. This caused a ripple effect in the universe – her universe. She realized, she was feeling quite good and her fever was gone. She felt energetic enough to begin work on an old carpet.

“What miracle did you do?” she asked. “I didn’t do anything. You did it,” he smiled.

When the biggest star was visible in the sky that evening, the magical guest took leave to continue his journey towards the ‘holy infant’. “Thank you for helping me. I bless you both with the gift of the highest and noblest of all emotions – the feeling of gratitude. That emotion is the very fountain of fulfillment and joy,” the wise man said before leaving.

There was something about that wise man’s lesson that changed the lives of Shrivi and her mother. Every day, they began to follow that simple method of gratitude and things began to look good. Her mother found work with a decent income, and some sheep, within a few days their living conditions became better.  

And on one glorious night, when a luminous baby was born on a different side of the Earth, someone came knocking at their hut. 

At last, Shrivi’s father had returned with riches, food, and clothes. It was a joyous reunion for the family. That night, as they shared their respective experiences and adventures, one particular story stood out – Shrivi’s story of the magical guest, who was following the biggest star in the sky.

(I hope you liked this gift. If you will ask me – what makes me grateful? I will say I’m grateful to you, my reader for your presence here. Here is wishing you a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. May you get many reasons to be grateful every day of 2021.)

The Ghost Named Bond – Last Part

(The Story Till Now – A 27-year-old young man named Bond falls off from his balcony while clicking a stunt selfie with his girlfriend. He refuses to move on after his death and stays stuck in Apartment 328, where he has spent the most beautiful days of his life. His parents and girlfriend leave after his funeral but he is unable to move on due to his extreme grief.

Slowly, he comes to know more about the after-death existence and a funny reality – he has become quite a creepy ghost himself. He is sighted by many of the residents in the apartment complex. It is well-accepted that no one would rent the apartment but Bond is surprised to find that an Indian couple has rented the flat. A rare one-sided friendship develops between the ghost and the Indian lady, who is depressed and friendless in a foreign country. She is a typical case of a dependent, Indian visa wife in the USA. Her relationship with her husband worsens and she runs towards the balcony to jump off. At that moment, the ghost appears in front of her…Read more to know what happens next…)

Like a scared cat, she ran to grab her phone. I almost laughed. Just a moment before, she was ready to give up on her life but, desperate self-preservation prevailed on seeing a ghost. Maybe ghost sightings could do magical wonders in pushing people from one extreme to the other.

Breathlessly, she dialed her husband’s number but his phone was on airplane mode since he was flying. She dived towards the bedroom to grab the iPad – contacting any living person in the world was her sole motive. Shivering like a leaf, she face-timed her folks back in India and tried to show me – the tall, weird-American ghost, on the face-time. But I had already disappeared by floating away from the selfie spot.

I heard her mother chanting some mantra loudly. And then, they all began to chant Sanskrit shlokas in chorus. Holding the photo of her god, she obsessively chanted to drive me away while I gloomily sat observing her from the balcony. It was a heavy night as my sole companion in a lonely world wanted to get rid of me.

Techie returned the following evening and although he didn’t believe a word of what she said, he brought a funny looking priest to exorcise me. Then followed an elaborate ceremony accompanied by loud chants and bangs. It was quite interesting to watch the ghost-exorcising ceremony. However, she was under a lot of stress so, I moved away from them.

I decided to stay away as much as I could. They had no clue that the living world was far more savage than our ghost world – where tormented and stuck souls lived. But would they believe me? I made the dark ceiling of the store-room as my new haunt.

Meanwhile, Techie turned over a new leaf since that day. Perhaps, he thought his wife was hallucinating and losing her mind. And that made him consciously make efforts to take care of her. He cooked for her, fed her, and cheered her up. He even got her enrolled in English lessons and driving classes. Life brightened a little for them as they began to talk more.

She had also got another companion! Techie gifted her a handsome talking parrot; she loved it. For hours, she would teach the parrot to talk. I hardly went near the parrot, as it would screech and round its eyes on seeing me.

One day, the fire alarm went off in our building. This was mostly an entertaining event for me because I had the pleasure of watching panicked human behavior. The authorities expected that the residents leave the building before the doors got sealed. She was alone and had never experienced these fire-alarm security measures but Mrs. Raju came to her rescue. They ran out of the building with her. The firefighters and the police arrived within minutes and they began to secure the place. I watched it all from the balcony.

But one particular thing caught my eye, Mrs. Raju was chatting with her and pointing fingers towards my apartment. What was she telling her about me?

After the incident, I strongly felt that she had become comfortable with my presence around the house. Maybe she had gathered that I was harmless. Maybe Mrs. Raju had related my sad death story and she was sympathetic… Maybe she had become used to me… or maybe I was reading too much into things!

Things started to look up for everyone in Apartment 328, but my indiscretion one fateful evening changed everything.

That day, Techie was chatting with her on the balcony. For a change, his conversation seemed entertaining to me. It was about his encounter with an Indian ghost in his childhood. I hovered closer to know more about my Indian counterpart. But lo! In a flash, I reached the ‘selfie’ spot, and unwittingly presented myself.

What a sight I might have looked – a tall American ghost hovering over them, trying to listen to a ghost story! My lady remained unperturbed but the effect on him was pretty disastrous. He grimaced, rubbed his eyes, and looked horrified. A scary ghost lived with them – this information was too much for his mind to process. He ran out of the apartment, dragging her with him. She tried to calm him down… but he was not in his senses.

The next day, I learned that he had decided to move out of the ‘haunted’ apartment. I saw them packing things up. She looked calm but Techie was super-stressed, fearful that I was lurking around.

Memories came flooding back of the days we spent together. The lady and I were partners in loneliness and distress. I remembered her spices, her films, Mr. Khan, and her Gods. Somewhere, someone was playing a haunting song again, giving dark background music to my dejection.

I escaped to the storeroom to avoid seeing my sole friend go. By evening, I listened to the sounds of things getting moved out, luggage dragged, and doors getting closed behind them. I was lonely once again.

It was dark when I came out on the balcony. There was silence everywhere; the mild fragrance of Indian spices was still there in the empty, dark rooms. I felt like I died again, and there was no closure.

Suddenly, I heard a screeching sound from the maple tree in front of my apartment. What was ‘Mitthu’ her talking parrot doing there? Did she set it free before leaving? The bird circled me and squawked- “Thank you from Mukta! Mukta means freedom! Be happy and free!.”

Mesmerized and energized, I spoke her name softly – Mukta! Mitthu was delivering her message. That was her ingenious way to communicate with me and express her gratitude for saving her life before leaving. I thought I had unwittingly helped Mukta when she was lonely and depressed, but she had come to me for a reason as well.

I spoke her name again, and something in me clicked. I had never paid attention to her name. ‘Mukta’ was a divine sign. Was it time to let go, to surrender my despair, and move on…be Mukt?

I whispered ‘Thank You’ to ‘Mitthu’ as it flew away to its freedom. I chose to follow the bird’s illuminated trail…wherever it took me. I felt I was blissfully accepting things, moving on, leaving all the bad as well as good memories of Apartment 328 behind me… to go wherever I was supposed to go!

(I had great fun writing this story. Hope you liked it. And thank you for being with the Ghost named Bond for the past three weeks.)

The Ghost Named Bond – Part 3

On a warm morning in August, the Indian couple moved into my apartment. I receded to the storeroom by the balcony to avoid them. To my dismay, the different aromas of spices, grains, and incense filled my apartment. On the bare walls of the apartment, they hung pictures of Hindu Gods – Ganesha, Krishna and Kali. The lady had also brought a lot of cooking utensils – pots, pans, and wok. 

I peeped at the lady. She had a pleasant face but looked lost and spoke very little. Her language was different from Mrs. Raju and she mechanically unpacked their limited luggage. Her tall over-weight husband, who wore thick glasses, did most of the talking. He was working on a laptop – obviously, a techie who owned a Toyota something car, I thought. The lady was about my age while the husband was in his thirties. I really hoped that someone could tell the couple about me, the terrifying ghost, and make them leave my space.

In a few days, I learned more about them. It was the first time, the lady had visited any foreign country. She only spoke Hindi. On the other hand, the techie had a traveling job so he had to frequently leave his wife alone. Once or twice, I tried to scare them off from the apartment, but they just didn’t notice. The lady always looked preoccupied while Techie was either in the office or on the phone. 

While he would be on conference calls, the lady would cook and clean obsessively. Her delicious dishes would mostly go to the trash as Techie was hardly home and she rarely ate. To throw those chapattis, curries, kebabs and chicken tikka masala into the bin was a crime. Wasn’t it? If only I were alive… 

On a regular day, I was pondering over my plight in the storeroom when her sobs startled me. She was lying prostrate on the carpet – a picture of grief. Her long tresses looked entangled and messy. Techie was traveling and I did not know the cause of her distress. 

For the first time, I noticed her sadness. Friendless, helpless, and completely dependent on her constantly traveling husband in a new land, she had all the reasons to be upset. As an American, I never really paid attention to how it felt to be an immigrant and a dependent – the typical case of a visa wife! Added to it, she hardly knew English and had no driving experience to explore and learn on her own. The other Indians in the apartment spoke different languages, so, she couldn’t really chat with them. She couldn’t interact, make friends, or go out. 

Silently, she cooked and cleaned the house, and spoke only when on the phone with her folks in India. Her refuge was a creaking rocking chair in front of the TV, where she cried herself to sleep every afternoon. Depressive thoughts, low self-esteem never did a person any good. I felt a sort of bonding with her – we both were stuck and lonely. I had read somewhere – a unique relationship is often a good by-product of trying times. 

A sudden knock on the door, one afternoon, startled her and made me float to the ceiling. I was watching a colorful, Hindi musical with her. The lead actor was some Mr. Khan. She always watched Khan’s movies. She opened the door. A scared-looking Mrs. Raju stood there. I remembered her having seen me as a ghost in the past. I playfully blew hot air on her face. I think she sensed it. Anxiously handing over a birthday party invite, Mrs. Raju whispered – Aren’t you afraid to stay here all by yourself? Haven’t you heard the stories of a ghost named Bond? The lady smiled and answered in the negative. 

I saw her smiling for the first time. She was happy to be invited. Closing the door, she went to her wardrobe to select a dress.

She looked attractive and the grim lines around her mouth had faded. I felt even more sorry for her. We both were similar in many ways – she was afraid to explore and I was afraid to move on, we were in self-inflicted captivity. But it was worse for her because she was unable to appreciate what she had – LIFE.

That evening, she dressed graciously in a long elegant salwar-suit, parted her lovely hair, applied vermilion, and lined her large eyes with kohl. Techie canceled his calls for the first time and came home early to go to the party. I was happy to see her happy and the party went well.

I became more comfortable in her presence. I would hover near her when she cooked. I could now identify all her spices..turmeric, cumin, coriander, chilies. I learned about her Gods too but a goddess on a huge lion scared me the most. 

Meanwhile, Techie’s trips out of town increased and their differences grew. She developed a rude and aggressive attitude towards her husband. In retaliation, Techie would stay aloof and distant. Their marriage was falling apart and I blamed him more than her.  

On a January night, Techie went out of town again. I saw her crying bitterly in her room. They had a nasty fight before he left and she had not stopped crying since. I felt concerned for the frail woman. Apparently, she was depressed and not sleeping well. Suddenly, she got up and ran towards the balcony on decidedly a rogue, dangerous impulse! I smelt catastrophe. She was almost near my ‘selfie’ spot when I materialized right in front of her…and she stopped. Taking a step back, her face white as snow, she screamed… I knew that was the end of my one-sided-friendship. (To be contd…)

(The Story – Part 1 and Part 2 – A 27-year-old young man named Bond falls off from his balcony while clicking a stunt selfie with his girlfriend. He refuses to move on after his death and stays stuck in Apartment 328, where he has spent the most beautiful days of his life. His parents and girlfriend leave after his funeral but he is unable to move on due to his extreme grief. Slowly, he comes to know more about the after-death existence and a funny reality – he has become quite a creepy ghost himself. He is seen by many of the residents in the apartment complex. It is well-accepted that no one would rent the apartment but Bond is surprised to find that an Indian couple has rented the flat. Read more to know what happens next…)

The Ghost Named Bond – Part 2

(The Story Till Now – A 27-year-old young man named Wilbert Bond falls off from his balcony while clicking a stunt selfie with his girlfriend. He refuses to move on after his death and stays stuck in Apartment 326, where he has spent the most beautiful days of his life. His parents and girlfriend leave after his funeral but he is unable to move on due to his extreme grief. Slowly, he comes to know more about the after-death existence and a funny reality – he has become quite a creepy ghost himself. Read more to know what happens next…)

One evening, the Asian Man ( I had nicknamed him Mr. Crocs), was watering plants in his apartment, which was right opposite to mine. I was melancholic and accidentally floated to the same ‘selfie’ spot, from where I had fallen off.

In a flash, my form seemed heavier; I felt I was materializing. I was acquiring a sort of shadowy structure that was close to my former physical body, on the spot that led to my death. Perhaps, I had left some intense energy there before dying. It felt good to have some form, although ghostly; it was quite an achievement for me.

But I couldn’t enjoy the finding for long because Mr. Crocs had spotted me. His reaction was priceless. His shock-stricken eyes almost came out of the sockets. He blinked twice or thrice and then ran inside, screaming in his language. I had never seen him unnerved before; it was hilarious to ruffle him out of his remarkable composure.

He came out again to check once more and ran back screaming. I moved away from the spot in a blink before he could get a heart attack as he was beginning to look very pale. The very next day, I saw a crowd on his balcony, geared with devices to record a ghost-sighting video.

This intrusion infuriated me. After the incident, I tried not to venture into the ‘selfie’ spot in daylight. It was annoying to have prying eyes on me. However, at night, the irrepressible feeling of having a presence, albeit shadowy, in the living world would overpower me.

And I would stand on my balcony after midnight, reminiscing about my girlfriend – hoping that I get a second chance to say good-bye to my love. I would also think of my parents and move around the house in an agitated state. I wondered whether the neighbors heard my horrible noises of agony.

Despite my best intentions, I got sighted by old Mrs. Wiederholt, who was taking in the night air by the pool. She looked startled for a second, and then the dear lady just crossed her heart. She knew Mr. Wiederholt was somewhere in my world. I tried to connect with the ghost of Mr. Wiederholt for companionship. I often played chess with Mr. Wiederholt when we were alive but he was not there in my dimension. He had moved on.

Often, creepy animals floated by me; occasionally, I saw some light beings too. The ghost-world perplexed me; there was so much to learn.

Mrs. Wiederholt had stopped reacting whenever she saw me and would leave me in peace. However, Mrs. Raju almost had a heart attack when she spotted me from the outside parking lot. ‘Aiyayiyoooo,’ she yelled and jumped towards the clueless Mr. Raju, who walked ahead carrying their sleeping boy. They were returning home from a late-night birthday party.

Mr. Raju was annoyed about being pushed but Mrs. Raju pointed towards my balcony and escaped abandoning her glittery sandals. Mr. Raju kept a brave face, walked faster, and faster… and finally, ran like a bullet towards the safety of the building holding the wailing kid.

I was not that scary, was I?

I became one of the most talked-about ‘non-living-being’ in the county. Everyone held me responsible for doing terrible things. I was ‘Mr. Nobody’ who stalked, scared, and harassed people. My ghost stories made kids go to bed on time.

Therefore, I was astonished when an Indian couple rented my apartment. Weren’t they aware that Apartment 326 was haunted by ME – the terrifying, blood-curdling ghost named Bond? (To be contd…)

The Ghost Named Bond – Part 1

ghostA popular sad song played somewhere close while I stood looking at my crumpled body. My neck had broken, someone said. I agreed. It was a nasty fall; a wrinkled man announced. I agreed again.

She came running towards me and ran through me towards the crowd. The crowd made way for her. Breathless, shocked, and dazed, she looked at my dead body and broke down. The crowd feigned sympathy and enquired suspiciously about my fall. With great difficulty, she managed – He…he..fell off the balcony while taking our..selfie!

Her words came as an embarrassment to my detached self. Did people die like this? I mean, just like this? Being murdered was far better than death by foolishness. There was no drama, no twisted plot, not even some fancy-sounding sickness, just a stupid accident!

If only I could get sucked back in that body! It was a nice, healthy body filled with joy and energy just a couple of minutes back.

But the next moment, I just lay there like an empty reddish-white sack. But wait, who was I – that body or this? It was all so confusing or a bad dream, perhaps?

Someone in the crowd suggested it could be a suicide or murder. I looked at the speaker and recognized my neighbor – Mr. Crocs! His eyes looked even more prominent now as I hovered near him. “Do not look for cheap thrills Mr., it was just a foolish accident,” I whispered hoping to be heard. I didn’t want any more troubles for her.

Soon after, sirens wailed and men in uniforms appeared. They began their investigation and reaffirmed the truth – I had slipped off the balcony from my third-floor apartment while posing for a selfie with my girlfriend. Legalities ensued. Later, my parents and well-wishers arranged a funeral service at the famous Cross Point Church in my small town in the US, where solemn speakers took turns to speak about me in superlatives.

Before death, I never knew I was such a great son, boyfriend, brother, friend, colleague, neighbor. I remembered the same set of people calling me names at different times in my life. They had all changed opinions quite quickly! It felt nice listening to them. I was going to heaven, perhaps?

After my burial, I expected angels to descend and escort me to heaven. But nothing happened. Or was the Devil planning to claim me? I thought of my sins and considered myself quite eligible for hell. But he also didn’t show up. Death confused me. No God, No Devil. No Heaven, No Hell! Did religious talks and holy books contain nothing but a series of concocted tales? Were godmen lying all this while? I was the same person minus the body and its demands. Death did not bring answers. I said goodbye to my 27-year-old body with a broken neck and decided to go back to my apartment.

Back in the apartment, my parents sat holding hands. They looked older than I had seen them last. It was heartbreaking to see them in such a pathetic state. I heard sobs in the bedroom. My girlfriend was there. I wanted to reach out to her, to connect somehow.

However, things were different. I was stuck in an unknown dimension, from where I could watch but couldn’t communicate. My cell phone beeped. I saw – 3k likes on my Facebook obituary. Now, this was something that pepped up things a bit.

After a few days of untold misery, my parents flew back to Arizona and I watched her pack. She was moving out of our apartment. Memories came flooding back of those amazing days we had spent together, of nights filled with passionate love and bitter-sweet quarrels. I thought of a life not lived, tasks unfinished and wishes unfulfilled, and mourned my sudden death. The angst that followed was worse than my fall. I was miserable but stuck to the place where I had spent the most beautiful time of my short-lived life – Apartment No. 326.

Someone who had a bad sense of timing played the haunting song again as I watched my girlfriend go, forever!

A period of gloom filled my consciousness after she left. But I tried to adjust to my new status. I noticed there were various dimensions in our space. Sometimes, I watched shadows float by. I tried to communicate but none answered. It was unbearably lonely, but I did not want to move on. I was just not ready yet. Occasionally, some unusual sounds or sights would scare me and I would retreat to the furniture less bedroom. Later, an incident led me to believe that I was very creepy! And the residents of the Apartment Complex had named me – The Ghost Named Bond. (To be contd…)

The eye that can see right through you!

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I see absolutely everything. Even you, dear reader, I see you as clearly as you see me. I am not just a usual picture prompt for a story idea. I am real!

Come, look deep into my eye, and you will know all about yourself. You will be able to see where and what went wrong or right in your life and more – the little secrets that you have been hiding deep within you.

You will see yourself in all your nakedness. Yes, it will take guts to see yourself in that ‘undiluted form of truth’…so different from what others or even you think of yourself!

For, I am the eye of conscience. Nothing can escape me! Not even a little detail.

To look or not to look, it’s always your choice. But believe me, your life will be much straighter if you dare to see!

This story is a part of the wonderful ‘Mondays Finish The Story Challenge’ by Barbara Beacham. She provides us with a photo prompt, the first sentence, and approximately 150 words with which we are to use to write our story. To take up the challenge click hereMFtS

Baby Boo and the Teeny Weeny Sandal

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One fine evening, Baby Boo, the toy infant escaped from Babyland to look for adventure on Earth. He jumped out of the trampoline clouds, slid through the rainbow and landed on top of a cheerful flower in the garden of old Miss Daisy. All the while he shrieked with joy and sang at the top of his voice.

In case you have forgotten, let me introduce Baby Boo again. You must have seen him in one of your sweetest dreams as a child. Baby Boo is a playful toy from Babyland – the place where all kids in the world go when they dream. Babyland, nestled in trampoline clouds, is the fun place to be. They say it has ice-cream mountains, pizza valleys, juice streams, chocolate trees, plenty of slides,  characters from fairytales and magical toys like Baby Boo. The Baby God reigns over the land. He often admonishes his favourite toy, Baby Boo because he transcends dream in search of adventure on Earth.

Now back to this little adventure trip of Baby Boo, the toy infant. At the time of Baby Boo’s joyful arrival, Miss Daisy was tending her beautiful garden. The delightful singing of Baby Boo startled her so much that she almost dropped the hose. Now, dear Miss Daisy doesn’t like surprises too much. She adjusted her round glasses and looked around for the mischievous trespasser. Lo and behold ! Baby Boo was perched like a butterfly on her precious flower. He tried to hide from her. He knew the old lady when she was a naughty little girl. Like every child on Earth, she had been to Babyland in her dreams. And she always took special pleasure in pulling his ear then, but of course now, the ninety year old did not remember a thing.

Unfortunately, Miss Daisy spotted him. Her eyes weren’t too good, so she couldn’t see the form of her former friend. She thought Baby Boo was a sort of big bug, destroying her beloved flower. So, she rigorously shook the branch that held the flower. Away went Baby Boo, flapping around to regain balance but fell down with a thud. Thankfully, he fell on a tiny wayside sandal, thus his cute back was saved from scratches.

Now, the sandal had a sad story to tell. She belonged to Baby Vir and she had accidentally slipped out of his feet while he was enjoying an outing with Mumma and Little brother Adi. She had been lying on the road for about fifteen minutes contemplating her fate. Any moment a passing car could run her down!

Baby Boo hugged the sobbing sandal and promised to reunite her with Baby Vir. Boo is said to be great at making a sad soul smile!

On the other hand, Vir’s Mumma was still unaware of the missing sandal as they took a walk along the winding pathway. She was busy informing her older son, little Adi about rabbits and birds. She was a little worried as her baby Vir had been inconsolable. What she did not know was – Vir had been crying for the missing teeny weeny sandal. He had been struggling to point out to Mumma that his favourite sandal had fallen near Miss Daisy’s house. But grown ups seldom understand a baby. Vir’s mom kept patting his back but did not notice his bare pink foot.

But thankfully, along came Baby Boo – the rescuer! He took the sandal in his arms and flew using his magical power. From above, he saw Mom and the little ones walking toward their apartment. He dropped the sandal right in front of little Adi hoping he would notice.

Little Adi was busy recognising numbers on the number plates of the cars. He stumbled on the sandal but did not look down. Adi moved on and woefully, Baby Boo’s attempt to unite the sandal with Vir was wasted.

Baby Boo flew down again and gathered the little sandal in his arms for a second attempt.

By this time, Vir wriggled his legs so much that his mother noticed that one sandal was missing. They started looking for it as Vir wailed louder and louder. Mumma called up papa and informed him about the missing sandal. The other pair of teeny weeny sandal was shedding tears too. It was a sorry sight!

After a while, they gave up looking for the missing sandal as it was getting dark. They were about to enter their apartment when Baby Boo aimed and threw the sandal right in front of them, just a few feet away. Adi ran and picked it up. He delightfully shouted,” Mumma, here is the missing sandal.”

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It was strange that the sandal was found on this side of the building. They had not taken this path on their way out, Mumma wondered.

However, she shrugged and put the sandal back on Vir’s feet. The united pair of sandals tapped each other and smiled gratefully at Baby Boo. Vir baby stopped crying and looked up. He found Baby Boo hovering on the sky. He chuckled, clapped and laughed showing his two tiny teeth.

Before leaving, Baby Boo waved and threw magic flying kisses at them. The kisses tickled the kids so much that they laughed and laughed. Mumma had no choice she laughed too! And so did papa, when they reached home.

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This is the picture of the magical toy infant, Baby Boo, clicked long ago. Stay blessed and stay glued for more adventures of Baby Boo. Till then, bear hug to all kids and to those, who refuse to grow up!