Midnight Secrets with Ghost

It was midnight, and sleep eluded me, so I opted for a quiet walk in my apartment. The night air seemed more inviting than tossing in bed.

In the chilly night, my jacket was nowhere to be found, but who cares at midnight, right? Without second thoughts, I grabbed the white bedsheet from the bed and wrapped myself in it. Surprisingly, the cozy bedsheet turned out to be a savior against the night's cold. 

A few steps in, I had a close encounter with a spooky white figure, only to realize it was just me, scaring myself with my own reflection. Draping myself in that white sheet gave me a fright and I ended up scaring myself!

As I strolled along, a warm voice echoed in the quiet night, "Hey, hi! Do you reside in this apartment?" I wondered what brought him out at this hour. His voice, warm and friendly, resonated in the silent surroundings. Listening to him, I couldn't help but admire the charm in his eyes and the inviting smile. Sporting a 3-day stubble beard, he looked remarkably handsome. Oh, and by the way, he was wearing a black shirt. It added a cool touch to his whole vibe under the moonlight. 

"Can I join you for a walk?" he asked, and I thought, why not? It might be a more interesting night than usual.

Hesitant but curious, I asked, "I've been living here for a year, but I haven't seen you around. By the way, which floor are you on, and what's your flat number?""

The mysterious stranger grinned and replied in a hushed tone, "Ah, that's the perks of being a ghost - we're invisible. I reside on the ghostly 13th seventh floor, and my flat number is 1313. Lucky number, isn't it?"

Laughing at his ghostly details, I teased, "Well, that explains why I haven't seen you before – invisible and all. Must say, it's my first time encountering a handsome ghost. Lucky me, right?"

His laughter echoed like a ghost, sending shivers down my spine.

As we strolled, he started sharing spooky ghost stories, making the dark night scary. Amidst the ghostly tales, a sudden chill ran down my spine. The stranger grinned mysteriously, "Speaking of ghosts, there's one right behind you!" I turned around in a panic, only to find him laughing heartily.

"Oh man, feeling a bit uneasy here," I confessed, "mind if we switch to a less spooky topic?"

"Want to hear a joke?" he said, his tone sending shivers down my spine.

"Sure, why not? Mr. Ghost!" I responded, adding a playful touch to the scary atmosphere.

"Ever wondered why ghosts never interfere in couples arguments?", he mused. 

"Because ghosts have realized that couples arguments are deadly and scarier than facing a ghost. It's even worse than a haunting experience!" I responded, marveling at my own amusing articulation.

"Phew, nope!" he replied coolly.

"Well, because when they argue, they both end up looking like ghosts"  I attempted a philosophical response.

"Phew, nope!"

I shrugged, eagerly awaiting the punchline.

"Because they know it's a dead-end conversation!" His laughter erupted, bouncing off the walls like a mischievous ghost causing choas in a haunted house.

I signaled "shhh" to suppress his laughter. "Keep it down; people are in deep sleep," I whispered.

"If someone shows up, watch how I vanish like this,"  he whispered, playfully disappearing into the bushes and leaving a haunted silence that sent shivers down my spine.

"Mr. Ghost, Mr. Ghost sir!" I called out, but there was no response. 

Just as I started to feel spooked, the mysterious stranger reappeared from behind a tree, attempting not to burst into laughter. "Sorry about that," he said, struggling to compose himself. "Couldn't resist a little ghostly prank. Hope I didn't scare you too much!"

Relieved, I couldn't help but laugh along as the stranger remarked, "Chalo, it's time for me to vanish. Hope our paths cross again, goodnight," walking briskly and disappearing into the lobby.

As I continued walking, the security guard approached me and greeted, "Hello, ma'am. I noticed you talking to yourself. Everything okay? Anyone you're looking for?"

"Heyyy wait, have you not seen a man in a black shirt?" I asked the security guard.

"No, ma'am. Haven't seen anyone like that. Are you sure?" he replied.

"He just crossed you and went up to the 13th floor," I asked, my words jumbling and trembling.

"13th floor?" he questioned, puzzled. "lekin maaam, is taavar mein hamaare paas 12 floors hain"

Under regular circumstance, I never quite grasped Hindi and often had to insist him to repeat in a blend of languages (English, Tamil, Kannada, and Hindi), hoping to catch at least one word from each. However, in the current moment, the intensity of the situation I am in, made me realise what he actually meant. "But we only have 12 floors in this tower"

 "Oh, no, wait. Yes, you're right." 

My legs started to shiver, a chill running down my spine. Understanding the gravity of the situation, I rushed to the CCTV room, anxious to witness the footage of my midnight encounter with that mysterious stranger. 

"Play the last few hours, quick!". The person in the CCTV room played the footage from the last few hours without an enquiry sensing the urgency in my voice. The sound of my breaths intensified as I watched the footage, only to discover that the man in black shirt was never captured in the CCTV footage.

"Oh, no. There was no one next to me," confusion etched on myface. I was left standing there, talking to myself, my words hanging in the air.

👻💀👁️‍🗨️The mystery of whom I was talking to lingers, casting a shadow on the haunted midnight👻💀👁️‍🗨️

Surviving LKG Admissions

I heard rumors about parents camping overnight just to hitch that golden ticket—the LKG admission form. I thought those were jokes until we had to camp out at night for my son's LKG admission form.

A chilly night, sleeping bags, and a campsite those are the mental images that pop up when I think of trekking. But today, here we are camping outside the school gate, navigating the wild terrain of kindergarten admission.

It was 5 AM, and we queued up in a line longer than the first-day, first-show ticket queue for a Rajinikanth blockbuster. Please forgive for comparing a valued education with that of a movie star – but, hey, kindergarten admission waits for no one, not even Thalaiva! 

The admission counter swung open its doors promptly at 9 AM, and we were sorted into neat rows by classes—LKG, UKG and so on. As there were limited availability of application forms, our early rise proved fruitful in swiftly navigating through the initial hurdle of acquiring that document. With the prized application form secured, it was time to gear up for the next level of this academic game.

Now, we braced for the first hurdle—shortlisting. The school invested an entire month meticulously reviewing and shortlisting the submitted application forms. Guess what? We cracked the code, and the school hit us with the silver ticket – an interview scheduled for Nov 21. 

Interview Day:

As parents, we naively assumed the preschool interview would be a breeze—just the basics, you know, like name, age, and maybe a casual "hello" and "goodbye." But we never thought would've thought that getting into preschool would be as intense as a job interview for a CEO position. 

While other parents were arming their toddlers with flashcards and rehearsing the ABCs, we took the laid-back approach. "Let my little one perform from the heart," we thought. Oh, how innocent we were.

But then we decided and prepped our little prodigies with the crucial life questions: "What's your name?" "What is your mom name?" "What is your dad name?" and for some extra credit, "What's your grandparents' names?" Genius, right?

The day arrived, and we were the first ones to reach the school at 1:00, even though the interview was scheduled at 1:30. They let us inside first. Our kiddo walked into the interview like a mini rockstar, and the teacher started with the first three questions, confidently answering them. We were mentally high-fiving each other, feeling like the we cracked the preschool prep. But then came the twist: the teacher pulled out a sheet with questions and marks and said, "Let's get into the interview."

Wait what—no, a question paper! Fifty marks worth of questions, if you can believe it. Ten for math (yes, math for LKG!), ten for colors, ten for speaking(Generic questions), ten for moral values, and ten for shapes. 

Then they handed my kid a bunch of crayons and said, "Go Hethvick!" The task was simple: the teacher called out a color, and my little artist had to pick that color and paint it inside a designated box labeled with the color name. They threw ten colors at him, and my boy nailed every single one.

Then, the interview took a cosmic turn. They asked him, "What comes in the morning? What comes in the evening? And if the moon shows up, what's do you do?" Seriously, who knew LKG admissions would require a strategy for lunar encounters?

Surprisingly, my little one responded to all the questions. It was only later that I realized this was an ICSE admission interview, and that's why they asked most of the questions with a twist.

But lo and behold, my son aced every question thrown his way. That's when it dawned on us—the incredible power of his observations. Even when the questions took a twist, my kiddo didn't miss a beat—answering them with ease and leaving us in awe of his adaptability.

But the twists didn't stop coming. Next up was a challenge to identify numbers from 1 to 10 on a mysterious scale. They'd call out a number, and my son had to pinpoint it amidst a tight cluster of numerals. Then, just when we thought it couldn't get more interesting, they threw in shapes like circles and rectangles, asking him to showcase his shape-spotting prowess. It was like a mini-game show, and my little contestant was stealing the spotlight! 

Finally, when the marathon concluded, the teacher spun around and aimed the spotlight on us, launching a barrage of questions. "What's your purpose? How will you teach your kids when you're both working?" It felt like we were on a reality show, and the prize was our kid's admission. Once the inquisition was over, the teacher gracefully transitioned into explaining the fee structure and admission process, as if we had just survived a quirky game show episode. 

That's when the wave of confidence hit us like a kindergarten success tsunami! But, alas, for the final result we had to endure an additional month of anticipation. It's not just about academic prowess; there are bonus points for being a Christian, having a preference for teachers in the family, alumni connections, and the list goes on. Fingers crossed we ace these criteria too; it's like navigating a maze of admission intricacies!