Bhola Grandpa and his wife lived at the Western end of our village. A large bokal tree overshadowed their hut. In the bokal tree lived a small troop of monkeys. Bhola Grandpa and his wife did not mind it.
One moonlit night, we were returning from a festival. The road was long and foggy. I was riding on the village chowkidar's shoulders. Suddenly, Bhola Grandpa let out a loud wail. Everyone in our party was surprised. We halted. Enquiry revealed that Bhola Grandpa had taken his Grandson to the festival. He had tightly held on to the tow fingers of the boy. He did not realized when those fingers slipped out. Bhola Grandpa was continuing as before. Then someone asked Bhola Grandpa what he was gripping. He remember his grandson and let a loud wail.
My father chose two sharpe-eye men from our party to go back with bhola Grandpa to the festival. The grandson bwas found before long. He had taken a cosy shelter a cow's belly.