A Rs.100 Crore Villa for sale in Bangalore – Not negotiable
Muskaan was very unhappy. She was sulking by the door in the April morning. The trees in the courtyard of her house in Bangalore were whispering to her. The great trees spoke in the grim voice: “hey girl what is the matter? Why are your eyes streaming?”. The smaller shrubs held her legs and pleaded, “oh baby please disclose the heart’s heavy on us”. The flowers sauntered,” oh darling, why are your beautiful eyes over pouring the rain drops? Muskaan wanted to let her heart out, but the 6-year-old girl from the st. Ann’s English school of Bangalore cannot say a word to her tree friends.
“Muskaan, my girl breakfast is ready dear”, it was the voice of Mr.Ahmed, her father. Muskaan felt as to cry eagerly and say: “keep your food with you, I shouldn’t take a bit of food here in this house” but somehow her ethics and the teaching barred her. Yet how can she stop herself, she had heard her father speak with the grumpy faced and villainy bearded (well Muskaan had infatuations about Villain! She thought each to be a Gabber Singh) man talks last night. They were planning to sell the house. She could not believe her ears. Her house! The place that is full of her friends: the birds and the trees and that small mongoose down in the alley by the banyan who had given birth to cute little ones last night! How can papa sell the house? Yet Muskaan had been just 6 Years! How can she protest?
Sulking she went to school. She did not like to play. Her father’s words were ringing in her ears:” who cares for an old house. This soon shall be the den of the snakes. I will sell it to you Mr. Thapar.” It was at this conjecture that the principal of the school announced a special contest. You have to make the house of your liking. The best creation shall get the best award. Muskaan was so happy and at the same time she was sad. She knew this was the opportunity by which something can change. She consulted the whole day with her tree friends alone in the backyard and the front opening. They said,” well if we get separated as the inevitable providence let us keep the token of love; the villa you consecrate
Muskaan took the help from her mother. She eagerly helped her. One night while preparing for the small villa of her own she asked,” mama can we not ask papa not to sell the house?”. Mama looked at her with blank eyes and then cried. Muskaan knew she had to be the messiah.
The day dawned. She pleaded her father to come to the exhibition. It was 11th of July. Her father went. He saw her First standard girl had made a small orange house with the ice cream sticks. When he stood in front of the creation he saw in stream eyes, which spoke in silence. He shuddered. He came back. Something was tormenting inside. He called up Mr. Thapar and said,” Mr.Thapar the price of the villa is Rs.100 crore”. The other was crestfallen. He said,” what obnoxious is this? Such a house at such a rate!” Father retorted,” the house costs nothing but the amount is for the teardrops of my daughter. I cannot sell them at any cost.”