Ole and the goslings.

Looking out of the classroom window I spot the flock of white geese waddling on the grassy lawn of the campus. I noted happily that there were a number of goslings in the flock and mentally made a note to observe them closely later on. The college campus was not very large but beautifully landscaped with a sprinkler maintaining the grass a lustrous green.

The geese were a bold lot and managed to enjoy themselves on a campus they shared with boisterous students. They attacked cheeky boys and moved away suspiciously when a larger crowd approached them. I am a great admirer of all the feathered species. On reaching home that evening I described the goslings to my daughters who were four and seven at that time. They were thrilled when I offered to take them back to the college to feed the birds right away. So we set off on my scooter with a few loaves of bread. The campus wore a deserted look as we walked to the geese. The watchman helped us feed the birds, who eyed us warily even as they gobbled the pieces of bread. The children ran about happily trying to feed the goslings. But the elders in the flock ate most of the bread and the little ones just hopped around looking bewildered and frightened. For many days the first question I was asked on reaching home was, “Did you see the baby geese? Have they grown?”

April in Jaipur is a month that makes you forget you ever experienced the winter chill .It is blazing hot, and no amount of iced water and breeze from the desert cooler can ease the torpid summer heat. So I looked out at the cloudy sky with surprise and pleasant anticipation, having returned home early on a half day leave .The children loved the rain, and dancing in the rain is a pleasure you can indulge in here without the fear of colds and viruses. So we watched the afternoon grow dark and quiet and the claps of thunder signalled the start of a grand downpour. Standing in the balcony the kids screamed, “Mummy, look there is ice falling everywhere!” .Sure enough, the whole area glimmered with  hail stones and we found larger golf ball sized ones banging away on the roof .It was as if hundreds  of unruly urchins were pelting stones nonstop from above. ”Ole,Ole”, yelled the children racing after the magical hail stones. Many were slyly consumed while others were kept safely in the fridge to show their dad when he got home. Everyone relaxed as the temperatures and tempers cooled.

In college the next day I listened to stories of damaged vehicles and broken windshields. The morning newspapers had reported damage to crops. My heart was broken when the watchman told me ruefully that almost all the goslings were dead .The hail stones had come on too suddenly for him to chase them all into their shelter. But to my daughters I untruthfully kept up a story that the goslings were growing up fast and were big geese already; the other face of the cold hard Ole hidden temporarily from their innocent lives.