“Kisiki muskurahaton pe ho nisaar…” sang Grandpa merrily as he wiped the filthy streets with his long rough broom. Little Bittu tagged behind him, bored and puzzled. He twitched his nose at the horrendous stench while the emanating dust made him cough. Grandpa neither noticed nor bothered.

“You promised this would be fun!” cried Bittu, hurt for being fooled into accompanying Grandpa to work. Why did his parents leave him alone with him anyway? He too could’ve gone with them to that free medical camp. If the municipal school he went to was closed for vacations, he could’ve played with his friends at home.

“In every job that must be done, there is an element of fun. You find the fun and—snap!—the job’s a game!” Granpda said suddenly. This irked Bittu further for he failed to see the fun in cleaning up someone else’s mess.

“I’m bored, Grandpa. I like school, stories and games. I want to go home!” Bittu protested and sat on an abandoned rusted cycle on the street side. Grandpa halted, finally giving him the attention he wanted.

“You like stories, huh. I’ll tell you one. Do you see those clothes put out to dry on those wires?” Grandpa pointed with his finger. Bittu looked up and nodded.

Grandpa continued, “Do you know, the striped t-shirts are part of a family?” Bittu looked up again confused and shook his head.

“The sleeved black and white striped tshirt is the Father while the red striped one is the Mother. The other black and white striped ones are the sons, you see. Other than the neighbour pajama in the far left, all others are daughters. They’ve been naughty, that’s why Father and Mother have made them all stand in a line. Do you understand?”

Excitedly, Bittu said, “Yes! One brother is paired with one sister, because boys fight with boys and girls fight with girls. The neighbour must’ve come to complain about them, right? What about the other wires, Grandpa? Are they a family too?” and his banter continued as he hopped around looking for potential story ideas.

Grandpa smiled. He usually kept himself entertained during his arduous mundane work by singing and cooking up stories involving random things he saw on streets. His grandson today saw this job as fun and game due to it. Well, he couldn’t complain.

This post is written for Day 2 of the The Write Tribe Festival of Words June 2018.

Adding an old post for Write Tribe Festival of Words June 2017.

Image prompt and Quote prompt:

“In every job that must be done, there is an element of fun. You find the fun and—snap!—the job’s a game!” – Mary Poppins