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Father talking to son at the Vigeland Statue ParkRevenge is best served cold, Hosh had heard.

 

'If only I could teach him a lesson,' he thought.

 

That night as he slept, his tiny brain schemed and conspired…

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"Hosh, change the channel," demanded Rosh.

"But The Simpsons is on in two minutes," whined Hosh.

"No! I want to watch the rugby."

"But Pa…"

"No!" Rosh ordered, as he took the remote off Hosh and switched it to watch his favorite 'Rugby'.

They always fought about the channel when The Simpsons was on. Hosh loved The Simpsons and Rosh hated it.

So, whenever they were together at The Simpsons' air time, Hosh always ended up having to watch something else or charging off to his room in frustration.

"You shouldn't get so upset, Hosh," admonished Isha yet again. “He almost never watches TV. Let him watch whatever he wants. He’s had a long day at work.”

"You should tell Pa not to be so mean," Hosh whimpered. "He always takes the remote off me when I'm watching The Simpsons and watches something else."

"He's your father. Don't talk about him like that," she followed Hosh into his room.

"But why do I have to listen to him always?" Hosh felt so helpless. "Why can't he listen to me, and let me watch Simpsons for a change?"

"Is he your father, or are you his? Who has to listen to whom? And he does listen to you. He just doesn't like Simpsons," she said, and walked out of his room.

He sobbed into his pillow and felt miserable. Ma always supported Pa. In time, misery metamorphosed into anger. 'If only I could teach him a lesson,' Hosh thought, as sleep overtook him. That night as he slept, his tiny brain schemed and conspired…

It didn’t take much to rouse Rosh. All he had to do was throw food at the walls, or smash crockery, or flush his watch down in the toilet, or change the settings on his computer, or even hide his handkerchief. Rosh was easily upset.

“I was well named,” Rosh had once confessed to his son, as his name meant ‘anger’ in Sanskrit.

Finally, Hosh knew what he wanted to do. It was easy to do it, once he had decided. The trouble had been in deciding what would give him the greatest pleasure.

Isha and Rosh were out working most days, so he could work openly without fear of discovery. He started off by taking some measurements and looking into his collection of materials for various craft projects that he was involved in.

He felt excited and restless by the time he had finished. This would turn out very good, he was now confident. The only problem was that he would have to give the finishing touches to his effort in the dark hours of tomorrow morning in enemy territory.

The enemy was a sound sleeper, but what if he awoke before Hosh was ready. What if he sensed something amiss, noticed something he hadn’t seen before, or heard something not meant for his ears. A lot could go wrong.

Hosh hated waiting. But all he could do now till next morning was to wait. He was still methodically going over the things in his mind, when he finally drifted away into a restless slumber.

The next morning, he was up and away early, as scheduled, even though the thermometer beside his bed read 30 centigrade. He covered himself well before going outside his room.

He switched off the Hot Water cylinder and let it drain by turning on the hot water taps. Then he tiptoed soundlessly into Rosh’s bathroom with his materials and dyes in the light of his pencil torch, and did the other things he had come in to do.

Working in the pencil light so close to the enemy was risky, but he remained undetected. Finally finished, he tiptoed out of his father's room and closed the hot water taps. Water coming out of them was already icy cold.

He walked into the lounge and replaced the cushion inside Rosh’s breakfast chair cover with the dye soaked sponge that he had cut and prepared yesterday. The wet sponge had been placed in an open plastic bag.

After inserting this inside the seat cover, Hosh placed a dry sponge over the soaked sponge inside the open plastic bag, so the water and dye wouldn't blot onto the seat cover.

Then he retired to his room, undressed and hopped back into his bed. It was two minutes to six. Perfect timing!

The next few minutes ticked by excruciatingly slowly. Hosh waited in bed with bated breath. He could almost hear Pa shouting his head off. He closed his eyes in anticipation and savoured the thought of what was coming.

A contented smile spread involuntarily on his face. Any minute now! Whoever said that Revenge was best served cold, knew what they were talking about.

Next Story: Revenge Best Not Served

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