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.
