Uncle Muja’s Adventures Series Two: Children Comic Series
By Raja Sharma & Sherry Sharma
Copyright © 2011 Raja Sharma & Sherry Sharma
Smashwords Edition
All rights reserved.
Chapter 1: Introduction
Uncle Muja is a funny character created for children and elders; he conveys moral and ethical lessons through his adventures. He is not only funny but also full of extraordinary wit. His humour is highly intelligent and didactic and it will not only amuse children and elders but also inform and instruct them.
In this series, reader, especially the little ones, will get plenty of laughter and fun to last over the Christmas and the New Year.
Enjoy Reading.
Chapter 2: Request for Loan
Chapter 3: Remembering Uncle Muja
Chapter 4: Uncle Muja & a Fakir
Chapter 5: Uncle Muja’s Decency
Chapter 6: Justice is Demanded
Chapter 7: Innocent
He is stuck to my mind; his smile is dangerous and it sometimes surprises you and sometimes annoys you. I shout at him, “Get out!”
“What have I done?” he does not go out and his innocent face neither trembles nor moves. He looks in my eyes and irritates me.
“You haven’t done anything…but I say…get out…”
“Then why are you sending me out, teacher?”
“I am insane…” I tried to suppress my anger.
“But, Sir…” he pleads his innocence.
I don’t like questions; I don’t like his shirt hanging out of his pants, his ties somehow dangling around his neck, and his untied shoe laces.
“Go out!” I hold him from his shirt collar and push him out of the class. Not that it happens every day in my class, in other periods also he is mostly standing out of the class room, as a punishment. He is not alone. There are about ten other boys like him in the class and they do the same irritating things which annoy most of the teachers. Every day I think of finding some other way but ultimately it comes back to sending him out of the classroom.
It is his smile that troubles me most because I can’t stand that constant smile on his face.
After the summer vacations, when I came back to school, he was the first to meet me at the gate. He had his trademark smile on his face. I thought that on very first day I would have to punish him. Instead of going away from me, he came towards me and shook my hand and said, “How are you, Sir? How is your son? I prayed for his good health.”
“Yes…he is fine…” I was not ready for this. I was so shocked that I almost forgot the decency of manners and did not ask him how he had spent his summer vacations. I touched his cheeks and tried to remove the load of obligation. I had spent past three months in great difficulty.
My young son had visited me. At the airport when I saw him, I guessed that something was not right with him, for he looked very weak. He had spent ten months in Lucknow, away from us. I tried to console myself with the conclusion that it happens to young boys. But, I was wrong. He was really sick, very sick. My son who was so afraid of medicines and syringe woke me up one night and told me to take him to a hospital.
Many tests were performed and it was found that he had Jaundice. He had to be hospitalized and someone had to be with him day and night. One day I used to take leave and the following two days my wife stayed away from her work.
That boy was sure to ask me when I came to school next day after my leave, “Teacher how is your son?”
During summer vacations, we could not go out of the station, for it was necessary to take care of our son who was on the way to recovery. He liked non vegetarian food but after the attack of jaundice, strict vegetarian diet, with lots of fruits and juices, was prescribed.
That day when that boy, Kantilal, asked about my son, I felt he had made his place in my heart. He had literally trespassed into my heart. I realized that arms and weapons are not the only means to defeat someone. Kantilal had defeated me. I was not in a situation to tell someone that this twelve year old boy had subdued me. He had won me and left me vacant.
I had met Kantilal about two years before. He was in VII F. There were thirty students in that class.
First day when I entered the classroom, the students stood up and greeted me in their Asian style, “Good morning, teacher!”
After the introduction, I noticed a boy, whose had not inserted his shirt properly, and so I said, “Insert your shirt.”
He did.
“Adjust your tie properly,” I said again.
He did.
“Teacher, please take us to the garden today, it is our first day in new class,” said he.
“Go and ask the principal.”
“Why teacher?” said he.
“I am new in Dubai and I don’t want to be thrown out of the school. I have come here to teach you and not to play with you in the garden.”
He smiled. I felt the first signals of anger taking shape in my mind.
“What is your name?”
“Kantilal.”
It was my first day there so I did not want to be excessively strict but I gave them a kind of lecture on discipline. One thing was sure that the students were really tough in that class and it was not going to be easy for me.
After that day, it was customary of me to shout at them and silence them. They were a bunch of undisciplined brats.
One day, when I was tired of shouting at them, I decided to rest. I sat on my seat. Kantilal came to me and said, “Why are you so irascible, Sir? Do you suffer from high blood pressure?”
There was sincerity in his tone and he seemed to be serious in asking.
“I don’t know,” said I.
“Get it checked, Sir. High blood pressure can kill you. It is not right. My father has high blood pressure…”
“Kantilal, go and sit at your place,” said I.
“All right, teacher,” said Kantilal and began to amble towards his seat. He was smiling.
That evening I visited a doctor and got myself checked. I had high blood pressure. He prescribed some medicines and control over my anger.
Next morning, Kantilal was there, smiling and walking towards me, “Got checked?”
“Yes.”
“It was high, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Did you take medicine?” he was acting like my elder.
“Yes.”
“Don’t stop taking medicine. Do you understand?” said Kantilal.
“All right. Thank you,” said I.
He walked away but he left his smile. But in that smile there was relief as if he had fulfilled his obligation. His behaviour did not change at all.
Final exams were nearing.
One day, Kantilal said in front of the whole class, “Teacher, you will fail us in the exam?”
“What do you think?”
“You will not give us good marks.”
“You are right. You don’t deserve to pass.”
“But, I know you will give us good marks,” said he with his smile and moved away from my table.
After the final results, Kantilal passed with good marks. He reached VIII standard. Coincidently, I was the in charge of his section.
One day, during the recess, I was sitting on the steps of the stadium; I had a cigarette between my fingers. Kantilal appeared and said, “Teacher, are you not feeling well?”
“Yes, I have a sore throat.”
“Throw this cigarette away! What are you doing? Cigarette will kill you, don’t you understand? Did you take medicine?”
“Yes.”
“What a teacher are you? You smoke cigarette!” said Kantilal and smiled again, hiding his anger.
I was unable to understand why I was tolerating that boy. Students were generally scared of me and none dared to tell me something even if I was wrong but this boy had made his room in my thoughts, my mind, and my entire existence. I could not utter a word in front of me. He would scold me as if he were my father.
I was thankful to him because he was the only one who had come to me after my return to the school. He was sincere in his prayers for my son.
I got transferred to Saudi Arabian branch of the school next year. I taught for about twenty years in different countries.
After my retirement, I came back to Nepal. Years passed peacefully during initial years of my retirement. I had started a small school near my village.
I had crossed fifty years of life when one night I felt very uneasy. I was rushed to hospital. An operation had to be performed immediately. I was flown to Bangalore. In Bangalore, I was treated in St. Joseph hospital.
The operation was successful and I was prescribed rest for fifteen days in that hospital. One evening, a senior doctor was on his visit. To my delight and surprise, it was Kantilal.
He did not recognize me but I did. He was about to go back after his visit, when I said, “Kantilal, I had left smoking in Dubai school.”
He stopped and turned.
After a while, he rushed towards my bed and embraced me tightly, “Sir, I missed you a lot after your departure from our school. But now you are with me.”
I had tears in my eyes and Kantilal was same, “Keep taking your medicine on time. Don’t tire yourself. Don’t eat things which have excessive fat….”
He had not changed.
Chapter 8: A Fistful of Light
The early morning light was slightly tinged with the fading darkness of the night. A thin layer of fog made the ambience gloomy. The sun was about to send his first rays.
Crimson light was gradually appearing in the eastern sky. Shina looked from behind the curtain. She was expectant that the sun would appear any instant.
Suddenly, her eyes stopped at the tabby cat sitting on the fence. The cat was lost in the morning glory of appearing light. It seemed as if she was devotedly lost in the worship of God Sun. Her long black tail was dangling on this side of the fence. Her Silhouette figure looked very mysterious.
In the meantime, a smart naughty boy, in grey uniform, carrying shoulder bag, appeared. He pulled the tail of the harmless cat. The cat cried and fell onto the pavement. In no time, the cat was running for its life.
What was the difference? Shina was also running aimlessly.
Her entire body pained endlessly. The layers of dead flesh were coming off her wounds. Her husband, Subhash, had left her with her ailing widow mother-in-law and two children. He did not send any tidings for five years. After his disappearance, after about three months, one day she visited the bank; she had to withdraw money to pay her children’s school fee but she found that he had left nothing in her account. Not only that, her mother-in-law often accused Shina that it was because of her he had run away, although she knew that her own son was highly selfish.
Subhash had troubled his mother even when he was in his teens. Once, he had sold his mother’s gold bangles because he wanted to travel around with the money received after the sale. He had returned after two years. The mother had remained highly afflicted during those two years but she forgot all her troubles when she saw her son safely back home.
In those days, young Shina lived with her auntie, Gita. Shina was very beautiful. When Shina and Subhash got married, his mother thought that he would change his ways but nothing of the sort happened.
It seemed Subhash was born for troubling his near and dear ones. He did not work. When the twins were born, Shina was happy, thinking that the responsibility of the children would make him mend his ways, but she was wrong.
While leaving home last time, he had left one written note in the cupboard. It said “I am going abroad.” And that is all. Her mother-in-law blamed her for this. She complained that she had not asked for any dowry at the time of her son’s marriage because Shina was very beautiful. She had thought that Shina would be able to fetter his feet with the power of her beauty and love.
One day, while descending the stairs, the mother-in-law slipped from the stairs and took to bed forever. She did not live to see the return of her son.
A lot of money was spent on the funeral ceremony of the mother-in-law. Shina was quite desperate because the tenant had refused to pay higher rent. Only a fixed deposit of rupees ten thousand was left in the bank. Shina thought it was quite difficult to meet the expenses. How she was going to make ends meet was a question.
After a few days, she decided to look for a job. There was a girls’ school near her house. She decided to apply for the post of teacher. One day she visited Mr. Anand, the founder of the school.
She was hired without any second thought. Ananda was more impressed by her beauty and young luring body than her qualification and pedagogical skills.
Mr. Anand started to visit her house; he would often bring sweets and biscuits for her children. Sonu and Monu would jump with joy to see this new uncle. Shina was also happy that at least a man was there to help her.
One evening, after the dinner, when she was about to sleep, the door bell rang. She was not expecting anyone at this hour. When she opened the door, she was shocked and surprised. At first she did not recognize that fair complexioned young man, with a hat on his head, dark suit, a cigarette between his lips really resembled a person from a western country. Suddenly, she composed herself, with a mixed feeling of delight and suspense, and stammered, “Su..bh..ash…., you…”
“Yes, I am not a ghost…touch me,” Subhash pulled her towards him. He embraced her tightly and began to kiss her like a madman.
Shina felt that he had become stronger and more romantic.
“What are you doing? Our children are thirteen years old. Don’t you have any shame?” she complained in a manner that was not forceful.
“Don’t they know that I am their father?” said Subhash, slowly pressing her hands.
“Have you ever fulfilled the obligations of a father?”
Subhash did not let her speak further and closed her mouth with his lips and entered the house. He closed the door behind.
He had brought lots of presents for Shina and his children from England, so it was not difficult for him to win their hearts and favour. He did not give them a moment’s thought to complain about anything. He did not feel sorry when he was told about the death of his mother.