The ferryman

For ten years, Pradeep ran the country’s ferry system.
He slashed maintenance budgets, raised fares, and packing more people on each boat.
Well, the boats that still ran.
There were a lot of breakdowns, thanks to the slashed maintenance.
And there were the accidents.
Hundreds drowned and died in capsized ferries, but Pradeep always found a scapegoat to blame.
And, yet, he always managed to sleep soundly.
Until one morning, he woke up on the shore of a strange river.
A hooded figure held an oar, and stood by a small raft.
“Climb aboard,” it said. “Satan is expecting you.”

I saw it move!


“Daddy, what are stars?”

“Well kiddo, stars are big balls of fire. Much much bigger than the earth. The Sun is a star. Kind of a small one too.”

“Stars? Like the Sun? There’s so many. How many are there?”

“Heh heh! That is one of the oldest questions. There are some guesses but they don’t agree much. 1000 stars for every grain of sand on Earth is one guess. I wonder if there is no number. You know, like infinity.”

“Counting stars makes my neck hurt.”

“Counting stars makes my brain hurt.”

“Daddy, how come that one moved?”