Being Laddu mama

Uday's one of the funniest, wittiest, smartest chaps to hit the planet. 

But behind the fun and wit, and the muscle and mass lies a soft-hearted 

and immensely mature person. 

One who cares, shares, and very rarely flares.

But he would flog me, every time he saw my try-a-rhyme-every-line poem, 

And then he would re-write a masterpiece out of it.

This is just a snippet from my final semester, during my internship, a  coupe of years ago. For the first time I was in the company of guys and gals younger than me and it just happened (or apparently I thought -- doesn't matter) that I turned out to be a little more mature than each of them. And then it struck me I was where Uday was all the time. He was way more mature than the rest of us.. well 80% of the time, the remaining 20% time KC would reign if I knew what I know about him now.

Now Uday always used to be busy:

• running around for lab sheets, 
• attending phone calls,
• finishing another 500-page novel, 
• puffing at the wind, 
• playing football, 
• constructing high-rise buildings of bread and papad (he did Civil engineering by the way -- no pun no pun) 

And yet had the time to throw a verbal punch at anyone passing by the wing.

To cut it short, I used the invisible guidance of Uday baba in all crucial junctures, such as:

• choosing between retrieving a lost Addidas cap on a weekend hike versus hitting the bed. 
• going to a movie versus going to the casino and so on and so forth. 

After a point of time though, I realized I don't really fit that role but can just learn to imbibe his temperament while dealing with people half his maturity. When the childishness wanes, it becomes more clear the role people who are more understanding played in your life and although I haven't seemingly done anything drastic to make my friends write a post about me I sure did pass through without losing my head.