Kneeling next to the shattered remains of his dada’s favourite tea cup, Radha looked up at Sheetal tai full of disdain. He had told her repeatedly not to bother him with her inane problems. But when she had come to his room, all teary eyed and wringing her hands like she would twist them off her body if that meant the cup would mend itself, he had had no option but to intervene.
In an ill-fated attempt to clean the tea stains from the centuries old cup (Radha had heard the story of the historic significance of that blue and white porcelain cup with only half an ear), the cup had slipped from Sheetal tai’s hands and landed on the floor where it had promptly proceeded to shatter into a million pieces.
Normally, it wouldn’t have mattered much. Sheetal tai could have told bhabhiji who would have simply shook her head and there the matter could have rested. But this was his dada’s favourite cup, one which had been used by Maharana Pratap himself. Not that Radha believed the story but it wasn’t about what he believed.
So Sheetal tai was indeed in for a scolding of a lifetime unless Radha could use his substantial imagination and save her from it. And since he actually liked her, he was going to help her.
From where he was kneeling, he could just about see his room in the distance. He thought about the chart under his bed that he was using to map out the identity of the new thief at school and shook himself. The chart could wait. Sheetal tai’s tears would not.
He told her in Marathi, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle this.”
Relieved and thankful, she brushed Radha’s hair affectionately, and promised she’d make his favourite puran poli once he had helped her escape dadaji’s anger.
Now having an even better incentive to help her, he bent his considerable cerebral resources to come up with a plausible story.
In the end though, his dada’s gullibility won over all of Radha’s cleverness. Radha, who had found a replacement cup on eBay that would have made a sizeable dent in his savings had he had the time to actually purchase it, was saved in the nick of time by his mother.
His mother had simply kept a white cup in front of his dada and when he had questioned where the blue had vanished, she had simply said that the repeated washings had faded the pretty designs. Some of the markings could still be seen but owing to his eyesight, he would probably not be able to see them. Sheetal tai and Radha had judiciously nodded on cue.
Alarmed that such harm could come to this historic cup, his dada had proceeded to painstakingly wrap it in his best muslin cloth, put it in its ancient box and hidden it in his wardrobe.
Radha finally had an answer to where he got his cleverness!
This is the third post in the series. To know more about Radha, click here.
tales of Suchita 
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