Kallu Koylewala limped into the living room of his house. “Imarti Rani,” he called out to his wife in a shrill voice wiping the sweat from his bald head. Imarti came into the living room from the kitchen smelling of turmeric and garlic. She looked at her husband’s dark face, his dhoti and kurta, which were white when she had given them to him in the morning and were now almost blackened with coal dust.

Humans have an innate, deep rooted, and a strong desire to be famous, or at least be well-known. Even the most private individuals want to be known, and appreciated, for what they are and what they do. The recent growth in the number of reality shows – however much we may claim to despise them – bears ample evidence to the fact that people like to be famous, even if the fame lasts only for fifteen minutes.

Exactly a dozen years ago, a girl met a boy on all fool’s day and they fell in love. The rest as they say is a dozen years of history.

It was the 16th day after the Ides of March. She had come to work about an hour early today. Yesterday Hunterwali’s memo had reminded her that she would have to “temporarily” vacate her cubicle to the editor’s blue-eyed boy, who was arriving from the UK, to work on a ”research”, around mid day. And needless to say, she had to get on top of the deadline by late morning.

Come 1st April, and many minds begin to work extra hard to design devious schemes to fool their friends, colleagues, and even strangers. 1st April is that one day of the year where you can make fun of people, and get away with it without risking any grievous physical injury. At the same time, you need to be careful about believing what you hear or read on this day, because you never know when you might be taken for a ride.