Bhola Grandpa and his wife lived at the western end of our village. A large bokal tree overshadowed their hut. In the bokal tree lived a small troop of monkeys. Bhola Grandpa and his wife did not mind it.

One moonlit night, we were returning from a festival. The road was long and foggy. I was riding on the village chowkidar’s shoulders. Suddenly, Bhola Grandpa let out a loud wail.

Everyone in our party was surprised. We halted. Enquiry revealed that Bhola Grandpa had taken his grandson to the festival. He had tightly held on to the two fingers of the boy.

He did not realize when those fingers slipped out. Bhola Grandpa was continuing as before

Then someone asked Bhola Grandpa what he was gripping. He remembered his grandson and let out a loud wail.

My father chose two sharp-eyed men from our party to go back with Bhola Grandpa to the festival. The grandson was found before long. He had taken a cosy shelter under a cow’s belly.

I remember another funny incident about Bhola Grandpa related by my father. It had been a rainy afternoon. Bhola Grandpa, wild with excitement, told my father and his friends that he had seen a gang of pirates.

They were burying a large box under one of the sand dunes on the seashore by our village. At once father and his friends started looking for the hidden treasure. Evening passed on to night.

Moonlight came in through the clouds. A pack of jackals were howling. It was past midnight. At this point of time, Bhola Grandpa confessed that there was no real treasure. It was all a dream which he had during his midday nap.