"Sita Kaka" (Story) - Dinesh yadav It is fun for a child to jump. If he did not accept the reprimand, he used to run with a stick. Such was Sita's uncle. Be it the farm, barn or where the cola (where vegetables grow) came out, the children playing would be furious. Nothing was said, but the children were afraid of their mischief. Sita of average stature came out of kachhar and left her home forever. After reaching someone else's house, he took over farming. Dedication towards work, sympathy, affection for family had erased the distance from oneself. Everyone understands that this is the head of this family. The older, grown-up Sita started calling as Kaka. The field should be guarded by the barn, the animals have to be fed, it does not take long to scold someone for misbehavior. The new generation started calling him Baba. During my stay in Nanihal, my childhood also revolved around them. I moved from village to city for further studies. I was living in Jubilee Hostel, Gorakhpur. One day suddenly there was information that Sita Kaka did not live in this world. His family members came and took away the body so that he could perform the last rites. I was incensed by this. That day I came to know that Sita Kaka was from somewhere else. ©Dinesh Yadav #Roses Story " Sita Kaka"
