WITHIN its limit, sometimes a mischief or a prank turns into a good or a helpful act if in its play, the intention runs innocuous. Yet, one should be careful on playing the either. “Prank is the finest skill/ Must know how to drill,” runs an anonymous saying. Whatever suggested the idea in it, a method by which one could exhibit apparently the acquaintance. It must be admitted that in playing a mischief or a prank intimacy and amity must be considered in prominence. It is absolutely important and indispensable to take into consideration the intention that lies in ‘mischief’ or ‘prank.’ And if you play it, the recipient must acquiesce the act sportily, wholeheartedly and friendly. Otherwise, it would go amok.

Recently, I attended my bosom friend’s son’s wedding ceremony in Nagpur. One neat-n-clean, well-dressed man who was seated just a few chairs away in the same row stared at me carefully. I too did the same. After each other’s close observation, we recognised each other. “If I’m not wrong, aren’t you, Khushal,” I asked admiringly. And he exclaimed, “My God, we’re meeting after a long, long time. Nearly after four or more decades. Deva! Am I correct?” And that was the meeting of the two close college friends. We had been the students of B Sc first year.

After lunch, Khushal, a retired police officer, recollecting a past account, narrated that anecdote of a mischief played by me.

It was forty-eight years ago, Khushal had been on his police officer’s training course at Khadakwasla, Pune. He and I were good neighbours too. Although I knew none of the friends seemed to mind the close friend’s prank or mischief, unknowingly it had happened. In fact, in those years, we both made ‘April Fool’ or played such mischievous prank. My knowledge about ‘April Fool’ was strictly limited to the then popular film-song - ‘April fool banaya/ kya tujhko gussa aya.’ I had written a letter (words as per my retention) - “Dear, Khushal. The news is serious. Your father became serious yesterday. Start immediately.” And ignorantly the envelope had been sealed with revenue stamps on Khushal’s official address. That was my incorrigible mistake to post an envelope using revenue stamps for which Khushal had to suffer punishment.

Thereafter, a week had been lapsed. And letter had turned into truth. His father had indeed become serious. Khushal had reached his village the moment his father breathed his last breath. On the third day, when father’s rituals were being conducted, his mother had become serious. She had been hospitalised. Had it been because of a shock or a severe disease? Khushal had to extend his leave.

When Khushal narrated that incident, I began to rethink about the ‘April Fool’ trick or ‘mischief.’ Had that message not been sent to him by playing a mischief, he definitely would have missed his father’s final moment.

My dear readers, that mischievous act of mine has been recorded forever in our good book as a golden token of treasured friendship.