Daarji's entrance

He walked in an immaculate cotton white kurta-pajyama clad in the softest pashmina toosha lohi his footsteps beating a welcome to his grand-son's room . He was followed by his man-servant Momin who was there always in his shadows ready to anticipate his every whim and fancy. Never ever , since he had crossed over from Sind, south west of Punjab(India ) had he ever had said no, to his master to whom he was bound till death . This practice which had all but died out was upheld by him as a testimony to the zamindar-naukar traditions which were unexplainable as they were tied by invisible bonds.

Clearing his throat to announce his entrance he walked in, boldly to glance at his sleeping grand-daughter who was precious to him than anyone else in his life . The look which she gave him and the lisp .....it just tore at his heart. Agreed, the khaandaan 's line was assured but this lil' girl was his jaan.

Gazing at his grand-son who was sleeping in the day-crib adjacent to her bathed in the morning sun , he was a throw-back on the family's good looks.

Walking out to the family living -room , he glanced at the furnishings which were de riguer in every up-scale home in Chandigarh, but did these crystal pieces and Laliques, silver artefact's be a promise to happiness and peace?He had travelled all this way from pind to make peace with Parkash, an enigma of a woman,if any.

He was different from as chalk was from cheese but the love they shared for their child united them and they kept their appearances and now it was time for the round in Chandigarh. he had to go through a lot this month , with all the celebrations and the huge path which was being organised for the naam karan . Getting back to Sudoku, he waited patiently for his Sardarni to walk in......