The Other Keshav

Yesterday morning, I told Papa about the other Keshav.

Papa and I were in my Black Hyundai Santro, going to my school. On the way I saw the other Black Hyundai Santro and mentioned that it was also my car. Papa caught onto that and asked me how come it was my car.

I got caught in my own words and had to tell him the story of the other Keshav. Here is how the conversation went -

Keshav - "This is not my car. It is the car of the Other Keshav."

Papa - "Other Keshav? Who is this Other Keshav?"

K - "He is another Keshav. You dont know him."

P - "Where does this Other Keshav live?"

K - "He lives in the other house."

P - "And how old is he?"

K - "He is 4 years old."

P - "Which school does he go to?"

K - "He goes to Jamnaabai Narsee school."

P - "And does he go to OGC in the evening? (OGC is my activity class.)"

K - "No."

P - "So what does he do in the evening"

K - "He rides a bicycle. A blue coloured bicycle."

P - "And who are his Mummy-Papa?"

K - "I dont know them."

P - "And does he have a Dadu?"

K - "No, the Other Keshav does not have a Dadu. Only this Keshav has a Dadu."

P - "Then?"

K - "He has a Masi."

The conversation ended here as we started talking of other things. I thought I had pulled it off fine and that Papa bought my story. However, I undid my own good work in the evening when Papa was telling this to Mummy and Dadu.

Dadu asked me where the Other Keshav lived. And I told him that he lived in Kolkata. He also asked me old the Other Keshav was. And I told him that he was 3 years old.

"Ouuuucccccccccchhhhhhhhhhhhh."

Papa looked at me incredously.

Aware that my story was blown, I suppressed a laugh and quickly changed tack - "Papa.. I want to have the musk-melon!!!"