Chulibuli feels sad for Dadu

The door bell rang once, but we were too busy with Lego to rush and pay attention to it. Also it was an odd time when it rang, it couldn't have been mummy, daddy and Kats's friends normally don't come to visit her. The bell rang again and the door 's latch was used to knock. It was then that I understood that it was Dadu.

Dadu is a really old man, who sells eggs, agarbattis, chanchur/mixture, and buys old paper from us. One of his eyes have almost become completely white and poor Dadu can see properly only form the other eye. he had told us once about his grand daughter, she was in school, and wanted some of Kats's old note books for her to write. I remember spontaneously making Kats ask about her granddaughter's Daddy and mummy, and he was silent. It was a strange silence, Dadu seemed very sad then. Dadu as much as we have known him has exactly 3 pairs of clothes and a sleeveless sweater and a brown full sleeves sweater. When it is a little cold he wear the sleeveless sweater and colder the full sleeves one and the coldest both together.  His slippers have been the same for the last so many years that we have seen him. But unlike other adults he smiles a lot. When he smiles I think he forgets that he has lost so many teeth. I often wonder how difficult it must be for Dadu to brush, because with such huge gaps between his teeth insects would find it very easy to enter his mouth.

Dadu's son has vanished, Dadu is very old and he still works. I remember making Kats ask mummy once that when one is old one usually shouldn't work, but why is that Dadu is working. Mummy said to me, "Normally when one is old, one expects ones children to look after and do no work. Dadu's children are not there. Dadu has a little grand daughter to take care of. And isn't it a good thing that he is working? Instead of sitting at home all day long, all lone he goes around, sees the world, meets people of all kinds. He can tell better stories to his grand daughter. " so true, the more people you meet, the more places you see the better stories you can tell. But why do children vanish when their mummy-daddy grow older? I always had that question, but somehow could never ask anyone yet.

It is good that Dadu gets to meet so many people and tell better stories, but sometimes when it is too cold or too hot and his legs ache too much to ride his cycle with the box of eggs on his carrier and the bags of agarbattis and chanchur/mixture hung along his cycle's handle he still comes.  And it is then that Chulbuli feels sad for Dadu.