I was freshly divorced. When you're single, your friends and family seem to think you need someone - that you have to have someone. But it's hard to express to anyone the indescribable freedom you've just begun to savor. Sometimes, you even avoid meeting friends like that.

During those days, my childhood friend called and invited me to a Puja ceremony. She insisted it wasn't a party or a get-together - it was a Puja. "How can you deny that?" she said. Her typical Indian-woman drama was impossible to resist. Out of love and care for me, she played her role perfectly, and I knew it. So, I agreed.

Not wearing traditional clothes, I had shown up in my denim jeans and a checkered shirt. To my surprise, it was a large gathering - around twenty to thirty people, along with their children and a few bachelors. Knowing my friend I did not fail to notice them. Of course, my friend's two daughters were there too, girls I was dearly fond of and who adored me in return.

In those days, given the state I was in, such gatherings felt like a completely different world to me. Smiling, making small talk about shared experiences, and enduring the occasional bit of show-off behavior - it was all exhausting.

I noticed one thing - children were running around everywhere, causing a bit of a disturbance, and some were even making a mess near the Puja setup. An idea struck me. I turned to my friend and said, "Oh, poor you. So much disturbance because of these kids."

She sighed, clearly tired. I quickly added, "Don't worry, I'll take them all upstairs to a room. You can focus on handling your guests."

Relieved by the offer, she immediately agreed.

I took all the kids upstairs and kept them entertained byplaying games with them. I even shifted their food upstairs so they could eat there while the adults downstairs were busy chatting animatedly.

Eventually, everyone settled down, and the two girls rested by my side. The younger one looked up at me and said, "Appa, could you please tell us a story?"

The first thing that came to my mind was a rabbit. The story turned into more of an elaboration as I went along, and I embellished the rabbit as much as I could. By the end, I even told them, "Their softness is like nothing else, almost like a living teddy bear."

The Puja went smoothly, and my friend's entire family expressed their gratitude for how I managed the kids.

I was immersed in enjoying my freedom and independence, fully engrossed in my work. A couple of months later, I met my friend and her husband for dinner.

After some casual conversation, I inquired about the girls. They said something that I haven't forgotten to this day: "The girls... they're busy with their new venture. We got them the rabbits they begged for - we just had to get them." My friend's husband said this with clear disappointment.

One of the girls was unwell at that moment due to a blood-thinning condition, so they were extra careful not to deny her anything too harshly.

My friend continued the conversation, saying, "Where did they even get the idea for this?" and they both complained about having the rabbits for quite a while.

I just listened quietly and said nothing. I couldn't even say, "Forget it, they're just kids."

Girls were just so enchanted by my imaginary rabbit. In its mysterious way, the universe granted their wish and brought them not one, but two rabbits.

I love horses and elephants, but I'm glad the universe didn't grant that wish,especially knowing I live in a one-bedroom apartment, where I'm happy with my two cats.