The cool breeze was gently blowing over the balcony and the sweet shop was filled with customers. Piku looked at the sweet shop whenever he got some free time. He was a small boy of seventh standard.
His mother always complained that he never plays with other boys. He doesn't talk to his school friends much. His bony and skinny structure was proof of his undernourished childhood. The provision was always there but he didn't have a good appetite. Unlike other boys of his age, he liked to give away all the delicious food he used to bring for his lunch to his fellow friends. This was the only time, he talked with those other boys.
When we asked Piku about his friends, he used to name a few. Kartik, Mohan, Amrit and few others. Although nowadays, even the most extrovert of a guy wouldn't find ample time to make friends, because there were so many other things to do apart from just studying. Piku had been practising painting on the Thursday and Sunday evenings. His mother wanted him to learn classical music from Dakshini. Every Friday, Piku commutes with his father in their black car to Kolkata for learning classical music. It ordinarily takes them around an hour or two to reach there. Then he plays some instruments for an hour. Then he sings for half an hour and returns home. Sometimes, his father would not be able to go along, so only the driver uncle used to take him to the place.
Piku was a good singer and a good painter. He was definitely a good student too. He passed the final term examination of his sixth grade with 96% of marks. Practically, teachers had to scrutinize to find some mistakes in his papers. They were picture perfect, except for some very minute silly mistakes that he did in his mathematics paper. This was the only subject where he got a 90 and infuriated his father. Piku's father was a businessman. He had struggled a lot in his youth. Day after day, he toiled and collected resources to build an empire that he owned today. He was famous as a business tycoon these days.
It was during the initial days of his business career that he had to leave a lot of his hobbies because of the dearth of monetary resources and the motivation from any of his family members. The very fact that he was unable to continue with his passion motivated him to instil these interests in Piku.
Tuesdays were booked for the swimming sessions. On other days, Piku had to read books, watch a few student interactive courses on televisions, participate in elocution competitions, dance competitions, singing shows and several others things hither and thither.
Piku liked sweets. He used to look at the crowd gathered in front of the sweet shop, just next to their house. For twenty minutes on every Mondays, Wednesdays and Saturdays, he used to look at the sweet shop. The sweets were never visible from his balcony because of those men standing there.
Most people came, took their sweets, paid the money and went back. Sometimes, some people would stand there, have some samosa or rasgulla with friends and then pay the money and then leave. Piku liked to watch this. Piku liked sweets. Piku liked the sweet shop.
All of a sudden, his mother shouted, "Piku, why haven't you been studying? Isn't tomorrow your painting class?"
Piku ran to his room and started reading his books. His life was dictated by the likes and dislikes of his parents. After all, he is just a small boy.
His mother always complained that he never plays with other boys. He doesn't talk to his school friends much. His bony and skinny structure was proof of his undernourished childhood. The provision was always there but he didn't have a good appetite. Unlike other boys of his age, he liked to give away all the delicious food he used to bring for his lunch to his fellow friends. This was the only time, he talked with those other boys.
When we asked Piku about his friends, he used to name a few. Kartik, Mohan, Amrit and few others. Although nowadays, even the most extrovert of a guy wouldn't find ample time to make friends, because there were so many other things to do apart from just studying. Piku had been practising painting on the Thursday and Sunday evenings. His mother wanted him to learn classical music from Dakshini. Every Friday, Piku commutes with his father in their black car to Kolkata for learning classical music. It ordinarily takes them around an hour or two to reach there. Then he plays some instruments for an hour. Then he sings for half an hour and returns home. Sometimes, his father would not be able to go along, so only the driver uncle used to take him to the place.
Piku was a good singer and a good painter. He was definitely a good student too. He passed the final term examination of his sixth grade with 96% of marks. Practically, teachers had to scrutinize to find some mistakes in his papers. They were picture perfect, except for some very minute silly mistakes that he did in his mathematics paper. This was the only subject where he got a 90 and infuriated his father. Piku's father was a businessman. He had struggled a lot in his youth. Day after day, he toiled and collected resources to build an empire that he owned today. He was famous as a business tycoon these days.
It was during the initial days of his business career that he had to leave a lot of his hobbies because of the dearth of monetary resources and the motivation from any of his family members. The very fact that he was unable to continue with his passion motivated him to instil these interests in Piku.
Tuesdays were booked for the swimming sessions. On other days, Piku had to read books, watch a few student interactive courses on televisions, participate in elocution competitions, dance competitions, singing shows and several others things hither and thither.
Piku liked sweets. He used to look at the crowd gathered in front of the sweet shop, just next to their house. For twenty minutes on every Mondays, Wednesdays and Saturdays, he used to look at the sweet shop. The sweets were never visible from his balcony because of those men standing there.
Most people came, took their sweets, paid the money and went back. Sometimes, some people would stand there, have some samosa or rasgulla with friends and then pay the money and then leave. Piku liked to watch this. Piku liked sweets. Piku liked the sweet shop.
All of a sudden, his mother shouted, "Piku, why haven't you been studying? Isn't tomorrow your painting class?"
Piku ran to his room and started reading his books. His life was dictated by the likes and dislikes of his parents. After all, he is just a small boy.
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