"Bhaskar, don't you lie to me! It was you who forgot to plug out the hot iron. If you've made a mistake, admit it!"
Bhavisha was scolding her fifteen year old son.
Bhaskar rolled his eyes in irrigation and Bhavisha became more furious.
"You've already made a blunder and by lying, you are making another mistake. Why are you doing that?"
To end the discussion, Bhaskar joined his hands, apologized and ambled out.
A few days later, Bhaskar's father, Bhavik, received a prize in cricket in the local community.
"Wow Bhavik, bravo! At this age you got an award in cricket, that's truly remarkable son."
Forty-five year-old Bhavik was delighted to hear words of appreciation from his father. His chest swelled with pride. Before leaving for office, he kept the trophy on the table and hollered for his wife.
"Bhavisha, I'm running late for work, please put this trophy in its proper place."
But before Bhavisha could keep the winning golden cup in the showcase, Bhaskar's hand collided with it, and the trophy fell to the ground, breaking into two. His heart missed a beat and he became a nervous wreck. Picking up the pieces, he quickly scrambled off to his room, and fixed it, using a strong adhesive. Bhavisha searched almost every nook and corner, but couldn't find her husband's prized possession anywhere.
When Bhavik came home at night, he first looked at the showcase. Not seeing his award, he cried out for Bhavisha,
"Bhavisha, where's my trophy?"
"To be honest, I've been hunting for it since morning, but I can't seem to find it."
Bhavik was flabbergasted.
"How is that possible? I kept it on the table before leaving."
He called Bhaskar and asked him too. As soon as his son heard the word 'trophy', he was shaken inside. Nonetheless, maintaining an outward semblance, he immediately shook his head and muttered,
"I don't know."
"Brother is lying! I saw. He dashed with the trophy and it fell down."
Little Bhumi spoke up in a rush. Whilst all eyes were glued on Bhaskar, he lowered his gaze in mortification.
Eating up the distance between him and his son, Bhavik came to Bhaskar, wrapped an arm around his shoulder and said gently,
"Go bring the cup."
Bhaskar brought the trophy and handed it over to his father.
"I'm sorry dad."
Bhavik sat Bhaskar beside him and explained slowly,
"Son, I'm sure you didn't do it on purpose. It was a mistake. But you lied, that hurt me more."
Without eyeing up, when Bhaskar clarified, his voice dropped an octave, taking a milder tone.
"You and grandpa were so happy to see your prize. But when my hand collided with the trophy, it broke, and I got scared. However, I've stuck it with fevikwik."
Bhavik couldn't stop the smile curling around his lips.
"That was nice of you. Son, I don't want to do any patchwork and put fevikwik on your character. Making a mistake is not a sin, but not admitting it is definitely a crime. Moreover, it is very important to be careful. Understood?"
Bhaskar embraced his father and said,
"Dad, henceforth, I sure will remember what you've said."
Bhavik patted him on the back and commented,
"Good. Now display the trophy in the showcase with your own hands. Anyway, you've done a good job and the crack is almost invisible."
Shamim Merchant, Mumbai
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Shades of Simplicity
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