I was the naughtiest child anyone can ever imagine. I had been a reason of irritation for many of my relatives and neighbours. This post of mine is dedicated to my favorite hobby of that time, The hobby of pressing doorbells. I remember there didn’t exist a single house in my colony which was not a victim of my hobby. The worst of all had to bear by Sharma Uncle, whose door bell got sick of ringing. There were nearly twenty houses between the place my school bus dropped me and my home. There existed a timetable of on which day which houses’s bell need to be rang. But as said by someone that all bad things come to an end one day, so does good that include my hobby.
It was an ordinary summer noon. My vacations were going on and I were enjoying the vacations. My father had gone office and I was all alone with my mom in my big and sweet home. My mom asked me to bring wiper from a nearby shop. When I got out, I found that street were all empty without any human soul and the whole universe including the street were convincing me that there caouldn’t be a better time for practical implementation of my wonderful hobby. How could I ignore when the whole universe were wishing something from me. I saw left, I saw right but how stupid I was I wouldn’t seen the straight. Alas! Sharma aunty were coming. The operation was implemented and the bomb had been triggered, my hands had already done something that I