“T here’s a story behind Pole Star which is known as Dhruva Nakshatram in our language,” I said to Davis (not his real name), a 14-year-old who thought a bit too much of himself like most youngsters of today. He was with me next to the driver’s seat in my car and I was his driver in his view. “Are you interested in the story?” Davis’s silence told me clearly that he wasn’t. He wasn’t interested in anything except himself and that was the problem which his mother had brought to me. I told him the story, in spite of his indifference. “Dhruva was the son of King Uttanapada and Queen Suniti. His father favoured his other wife, Suruchi, and her son.” “Lucky guys they were, weren’t they?” Davis interrupted. “Who?” “Those kings of olden days. They could have a lot of wives.” “You want a lot of wives?” “Nah,” he was contemptuous. “I want only girlfriends, not wives.” “You don’t want to take up responsibilities, right?” “Who wants to? Would you take up responsibilities if yo...
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