He was basking in the winter sun, peering over small alphabets, which the bootha kannadi magnified for him. The sun, the paper, the bootha kannadi, he and me were closely knit. I eagerly awaited his self proclaimed tête-à-tête with the newspaper to end, for that would let me lay my hands on my latest toy the Bootha kannadi.

The Newspaper served him more than one purposes. For one it acted as a shield from the orakkyum veiyal (scorching sun in his words.). Then it fed his insatiable hunger for worldly affairs. This tête-à-tête would empower him with some armaments for his conversation with ambi mama in the evening. I couldn’t have complained much about his voracious reading for this knowledge would have taken the shape of some story later in the night.

But at that moment I wanted him to stop reading and pass on the bootha kannadi to me. I was ignorant of the fact that I had supporters. One such supporter silently walked to him. She wanted him to stop reading for her own inane characteristic purposes. And she didn’t have the patience to wait for him to finish. She went and tried pulling the paper away, but he wouldn’t let go. He held on, but was too engrossed to fight back, he only murmured vidu and tried pulling back the paper. She wouldn’t take things lying down and pulled with greater force. I was amazed at the duel but I knew my mom would have never allowed it home.

He couldn’t last more than a minute and brought down the paper to face the pasu madu (cow).

He perhaps rephrased an adage he had learnt long back.” The female of any species is more dangerous than the male of any”.

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