The Unripe Mango
It was one of those typical days, when Harsh was determined not to go to school. Harsh, the five year, chubby nursery kid, hated to leave the comfort of his bed. School days seemed like a punishment for him. Holidays and Sundays were the most happy days for him, of course. Harsh's mother, Rama took him in her arms and carried him outside in the balcony where he could watch the pigeons flying and cooing . "See Beta, the sun is up and we should wake up". But Harsh had caught another fancy that day. "I want 'Kacha Aam', mummy", he wailed, without being bothered about his mother's words. Harsh's grandmother, who generally managed to get him ready for school, was listening to the conversation. "Unripe mangoes do not come in winter, dear", she told Harsh reassuringly. "We'll get some for you soon, when summer is around, Beta". But that did not appease Harsh. Harsh was now wailing at the top of his voice, hot t...