Lolo’s Funny World- Chapter 6

Papa and His Five Stars

I felt like a big grown-up sister when Gauri, Teepu, Manu, and Suku—my younger siblings—all got admission to my school.

I was thrilled. I told Sonia and my friends, “You know, today all four of my siblings are joining our school!”

Sonia said, “Hmm.”

I looked at the others for their reaction. No one even seemed to be listening.

“Isn’t it cool?” I said louder. “Five of us in the same school!”

Sonia again said, “Hmm…”

I said, “Last time when Ashu’s little sister joined, you all were so excited. I remember you saying ‘Really? How cool is that!’ And that was just one sibling! I have four siblings joining, and your reaction is so cold.”

Sonia said. “Yeah…Ashu is brilliant in class.”

“So what? She never even shares her notes with you or helps you when you need her!”

Sonia raised an eyebrow. “Neither do you.”

(And she’s right.)

I paused. A long pause.

Then Sonia said, “Who doesn’t like the company of toppers?”

“But you’re not even her friend,” I said.

Sonia said, “We like to keep her pleased. She might consider us one day.”

“You would leave me for her?”, I said.

She said, “Of course. You’d do the same.”

I said it confidently, “I would never do that.”
(Because I know Ashu will never consider me. I am a loser).

Anyway, I was very happy that my siblings were joining my school. Who needs such dull friends anyway? I would make my own cool gang—with my own siblings. My siblings would surely need my help in a new school. Now I can establish my image as big sister, they will value me as big sister and a senior.

During lunch break, I had a full plan. I’d check on each one of them, ask if they needed anything, or if someone was troubling them in class. I imagined myself as a saviour—like a mini-hero who could threaten juniors with just a glare. (At least, I thought so.)

First, I headed to Gauri’s classroom. She was surrounded by friends already, chatting and laughing. When I approached her with a smile, she looked right through me—as if I were invisible. As if she didn’t even know me at all.

Next stop: Teepu’s class. I offered her some sweets, trying to be the thoughtful big sister. Just then, Sonia and a few of my classmates walked into the primary wing. Out of nowhere, Teepu shouted in her squeaky voice,
“Look out, Lolo! Your sisters are coming!”

My friends burst into laughter.
(How embarrassing.)

Then I dropped by Manu’s class. He had already finished up his lunch… and mine too.
I gave up. I didn’t even bother checking on Suku, the youngest. All the excitement I’d felt in the morning had disappeared.

After school, we all gathered near the big tree close to the main gate, waiting for Papa. Gauri pointed toward a small hut-like structure and said, “That’s the school canteen! Let’s go get something. Do you have any money, Lolo?”

I said, “Granny hardly gives money even to the grown-ups in our house. Forget about us.”

Funny thing is, I had never even noticed that it was a canteen. I used to see a long queue outside it and assumed it was some kind of bookstall.

My siblings were clearly tempted. Now, after knowing it, I was too.

Gauri said, “We’ll ask Papa to get us something once he arrives.”
(Yes.. Papa is an approachable person; he might get us something, but why has this idea never struck me? I am the big sister here….I guess that did not occur to me either.)

Soon, we saw Papa coming down the road on his scooter.

Gauri ran up and asked, “Papa, can you buy us something from the canteen? We are hungry!”

Papa smiled kindly and said, “But I never keep money with me.” (I knew it)

Gauri blinked. “Why not?”

Papa said, with complete innocence, “I never feel the need to buy anything.”

Gauri said, “How is that even possible?”

Papa replied calmly, “I like home-cooked food. Granny gets me whatever clothes I need. So why would I need money?”

I said, “But what about emergencies—like this one?”

He smiled gently. “Alright, I’ll talk to Granny about it.”
(We all know there is no point.)

Sensing our disappointment, Papa with full confidence said, “Go ahead, eat whatever you like from the canteen. I’ll speak to the canteen guy and pay him later.” (Papa is really cool, and it is a golden no… a diamond opportunity)

Papa didn’t eat anything himself, but the rest of us got our favourite snacks and enjoyed.

With full bellies, we were now eager to head home. But Papa got caught up chatting with the canteen man and completely lost track of time.
(Just like me.)

Gauri pushed him to get moving. (I don’t know how she does? Handling adults… piece of cake for her)
Now came the big question—how on earth was he going to fit all of us on that one scooter?

Papa, with full confidence, said, “No problem at all. I’ve carried piles of books on this scooter, sacks of vegetables, and fruits. Definitely, balancing kids is easy!”

Books…., sacks of vegetables….. children ….and…. his confidence. Yet we trust him.

Somehow, I, Gauri, and Teepu squeezed onto the back seat. Manu and Suku, the youngest, were in the front—one on each of Papa’s thighs.

A wow moment for people. Some were amused, some were shocked, some burst out laughing (I hated it).

My siblings thought it was the coolest thing. (Of course—they don’t care how it looks.)
But I do. I’ve grown up. What would my classmates think?

I sat uncomfortably in my skirt, legs crossed awkwardly, trying to stay balanced, while my leg hair waved hello to the world.
Three bodies pressed around me.

Why the hell do girls have to wear this uncomfortable thing—skirts?
If it were pants, I might’ve enjoyed the attention too!

But Papa? He was glowing. Absolutely on top of the world. He was proud of his scooter stunt—managing six people in peak Delhi traffic with complete ease and style. He even blushed when a few of our female teachers looked impressed.

No one had ever seen anything like it—except maybe during the Republic Day parade on TV.

Of course, credit also goes to Granny and Mom—we’re all so thin, this balancing act would’ve been impossible otherwise.
(If Sonu, my elder brother, had been in our school, this whole plan would’ve collapsed. He’s the healthiest one among us.)

After we reached home, none of us felt like eating lunch. We were still full from all the canteen snacks. Anyway, who wants to eat the bland food?

Granny looked at Papa suspiciously and asked, “Did the children eat something from outside?”

Papa answered, “Yes, from the canteen. They were all so hungry.”

Granny frowned. “You should have said no.”

Papa said, “How can I say no to kids for food” (That coldness is there in you, not in him)

Granny said, “But you had no money! How did you manage that?”

Papa said, “I will pay him tomorrow.”

Granny did not see that coming. She thought not giving any money to him would solve the problem, but this was an out-of-syllabus question. She kept quiet for a few minutes.

She said, “It takes barely ten minutes to reach home. Now so much food is wasted. Who will eat that? Also, their health is compromised.”

Really! She does not care about food? Or us?
I’ve never eaten properly at home anyway, but she never noticed.

Food at home is always cooked according to Granny, Grandfather, and Aunt Lata’s tastes. Always bland. Always the same.

Papa said, “Okay, I won’t do it again.”
(But when it comes to food and kids… he is unstoppable.)

The next day, during lunch break at school, I was half-heartedly peeking at my tiffin. That bland sabzi again.

Suddenly, Gauri rushed up to me and said, “Come quickly to the school gate! Papa’s waiting for us!”
And just like that, she ran off.

Papa? At school?
At this time?
Why?

Parents usually visit the school in the middle of the day when someone dies in the family.
It had to be an emergency.
Granny must have died.

Oh… that would be great—I could skip the last two periods with Manju Madam.
(Actually, it would’ve been even better if she’d died in the first period!)

Anyway, I ran as fast as I could.

All my siblings were already at the gate.
They smiled at me and looked very happy. (Oh. Granny didn’t die.)

Papa grinned and said, “Surprise!”
Then hugged me tight and added, “I brought pastries, sweets, cream rolls, and fruits for everyone. Way better than that canteen food! (He is so thoughtful and sweet. He is the best.)

Papa said, “But promise me one thing—no one tells Granny about this. (We’re stupid but not that stupid.)

Also, you guys would take your lunch at home after school.” We all happily agreed.

Papa said, “I’ll try to come tomorrow too. Maybe every day if I can. (Hiding expenses from granny, ya… he can try)

I looked at my siblings and asked, “What about the tiffin we are carrying at school?”

Gauri said, “Give it to your friends. They’ll eat it.”

I asked, “What if they refuse to eat such boring food?”

Manu said, “If they don’t bring it to me” (of course)

So that’s how our secret deal with Papa began.

Lunchtime was about to end, so I hurriedly stuffed my mouth with all the goodies.
The bell rang, and we dashed back to our classrooms, still holding more sweets in our hands.

My classmates asked me, “Are these sweets available at the canteen these days?”

I said proudly, “No, my father got these for me.”

Everyone in my class was jealous.
(And I loved that.)
I have the best papa in the world.

Now Papa visits our school three times a day—
Morning to drop us off,
Lunch break to bring us treats,
And an afternoon to pick us up.
He does it all so happily.

My uncle (Papa’s younger brother) never offered to help, even though his own kids are being taken care of by Papa, too in the same way.
(But Papa is cool about it.)

A few days later, Granny called at the shop around 10.30.

The shop employee told her that he was not there. Granny became suspicious. She goes to Papa’s shop every evening to collect all the income. And when Papa was not around, she inquired from shop employees. They are all scared of Granny.

When Granny inquired from Papa indirectly, he just played around.

A week later, she found out.

Granny has technology greater than any CCTV camera.
CCTV covers one spot at a time.
Granny watches the entire family at one glance.

(I suspect Manu. He can be bribed for a bread toast easily. Or maybe Gauri, she acts smart, tries to be in good books of granny all the time.)

Granny didn’t say anything to Papa.
Instead, the next day, just before lunch break around 10 a.m.—when Papa was about to leave to get us snacks—she landed at his shop.

Papa looked up and said, surprised, “You… here? At this time? Is everything okay?”

After a long pause, Granny said,
“Yes. I have some work with the property dealer. Take me there.”

Papa said, “Can we go in the evening, please?”

Granny: “I’m busy in the evening. Let’s go now.”

Papa tried again: “Can’t we go later in the afternoon?”

Granny narrowed her eyes: “What’s the problem?”

Papa hesitated, “I… have committed to someone.”

Granny: “Who?”

Papa mumbled, “A friend.”

Granny: “Which friend? I know all your friends.”
(He has none.)

Papa scrambled: “Not exactly a friend… A shopkeeper. I meet him sometimes… for shop purchases.”

Granny said, “Okay then. I’ll come with you. First, we visit your friend. Then we’ll go to the dealer.”