Childhood

I fondly remember waiting for dad’s return from office in the evening.  Snatching his briefcase from his hand, even before he could get in and running with it to the bed, I would open up the two side latches of his briefcase with hope fluttering in my eyes.

There it was.

The colored fonts and caricatures on its cover would be peeping at me from beneath the blandness of dad’s official documents. I would merrily pull out the latest issue of “Champak” and my day would be made. In my preliminary survey, I would gleam through the entire issue, stopping briefly at some interesting illustrations or contests.

Then as mom would arrange the evening snacks, I would happily go through the entire issue all over again, this time around a little slowly and finishing off the longer stories of the illustrated pages. It would be my own little world for the next few hours and the days to come.

Down the years, I remember “Nandan”, “Chandamama”, “Suman Saurabh” and “Sportstar” becoming the same bundle of joy occupying that special place in my dad’s briefcase.

Those were not the days of poking multiple reminders through cell phones. It was only my reminder to dad in mornings before he left for office, which he would remember at the end of a busy office day and get me my little sunshine.