Last year's Rathyatra, Aashima, and I went out to my uncle's place to see my grandparents. Vasudevpur. A beautiful village surrounded by hills and mountains. Before my marriage, I used to go to my uncle's almost every year. It's hard to imagine how much he and my grandparents love me as I am the only son in the family.

 My aunt and my grandparents were very happy to see me and Aashima. Upon hearing the news, uncle returned home from his medical. He is a doctor. As a child, he was the most brilliant child in the village. The one in a million. After working hard, he became "Doctor Sarvadaman Shatapathi". At that time my grandpa's feet did not touch the ground. "My son is a doctor," he said everyone proudly. After so many days, everyone was together again.

 I have seen since childhood that my grandpa is very friendly and funny. Her life is full of adventures and funny tales. When I asked my grandmother started telling us such an incident.

 "It was the time when my uncle got posted at Koraput. Like every father, my grandpa dreamt of his son's success. So after my uncle became a doctor, my grandfather has a lot of respect in the village as Dr. Babu's father.

 My uncle used to send medicine home in a box, for common ailments such as fever, cold, and cough. On paper, he explains to grandpa how much medicine to take and when to take it. Grandpa used to sit on the front porch of the house holding the medicine box and give away medicines for minor illness in the village, without informing uncle. The poorest people in the village were happy to buy medicine without money.

 But grandma was scared of all these things due to fear of something untoward. She said that at that time my grandfather was influenced by the god of Saturn. So she used to light castor oil lamps every Saturday under the village temple's oak tree. 

 So one day my grandma tried to stop him. So he says, "Am I crazy? My son is a doctor. What is the point of becoming a doctor if my own villagers will not get any benefit from his medicines?"  But grandma's concern was that who would be responsible if something will happen to someone with his medication? But it seemed, he doesn't want to be held accountable for his actions.

 Grandpa's policy was to test the bottle of medicines every day. He used to write down the name of the medicine, what it was for, and quantity on the new bottles. On the other hand, he was cleaning up the old ones and put them on the top shelf. Cleaning means eating and drinking, not washing. Yeah, that sounds pretty disgusting, but he used to drink it like honey, no matter how it tasted. When grandma opposed, he used to say, "How can I throw away my son's hard work?"

 One day my grandma went to the backyard. Just then the electricity went off. It is common to have power outages in the Indian villages. My grandpa got a lantern after searching in the dark of the house and lit it. In the lantern light, he suddenly noticed two glasses of medicine on the kitchen wall. One bottle was full and the other was half-filled. No one knows what got into him, he drank those two bottles. He did not understand what had happened all of a sudden? He shook his head, pulled his hair, and ears, and sat down in the front door. His face looked as if he had eaten raw tamarind.

 There was no electricity that night. As soon as my grandma came she saw his condition. She grabbed him and took him to the bedroom. She tried to feed him something but grandpa couldn't eat. He lay down on the bed and the night passed. 

 The next morning, grandpa's face was swollen. Twice or four times there is diarrhea and vomiting. No matter how many times my grandma told, he was reluctant to take medicine from his medicine box. Shortly afterward, a local doctor arrived. Grandpa was given medication for diarrhea. So after that, he was able to eat something. It has never happened in such a long time that grandpa has not eaten his own medicine from his medicine box.

 That evening grandma, sitting on the bed, squeezing grandpa's leg, said, "Listen! I knew God of Saturn's wrath is on you. That's why I used to light castor oil lamps every Saturday under the oak tree. But last night the cat climbed the wall and poured all my oil. No more oil in the bottle. I could not light a lamp even today. That's why all of this happened to you. I'm going to bring some oil and light a lamp. 

 Hearing all this from grandma, grandpa's ears twitched. He asked, "where you kept the oil?" 

 "On the kitchen wall. I'll break that bloody cat's leg." Grandma replied.

 Grandpa said, "Oh god!. The cat's fault is nothing. I was the one who drank the bottles last night."

 Grandma looked at him in surprise. After a while, she shook her head and stood up, muttering, "The little learning is a dangerous thing." If I had put kerosene on the shelf, the old man would have died if he had drunk it. 

 Grandpa was listening to everything and cursing himself silently for his own karma.