Iversær and Sema were husband and wife. They had twin sons, Sonu and Monu. They were twins by birth, but in every other way, they seemed like opposite ends of a pole. Even their faces didn’t match; Sonu’s was sharp and serious, Monu’s round and easygoing. Their habits were just as different.
It was a Sunday morning. Iversær woke up early, as he always did on weekends, and noticed that Sonu was already sitting outside on the couch with his books open.
“Sonu, son, what’s the matter? Studying this early?”
“Papa,” Sonu said without looking up, “there’s a Hindi test tomorrow. My mom needs my English project done in two days, so I have to finish it soon. So I thought I’d start early.”
Just then, Sema came out with a plate of breakfast. She glanced at Sonu, then at her husband. “See? One son wakes up early, bathes, and gets straight to work. The other—” she sighed, “—the other is probably still running around somewhere.”
Before she could finish, Monu burst in from the front gate, bat in hand, drenched in sweat.
“Mom, quick! Give me breakfast. I’m starving from playing badminton.”
“You’re soaked,” Sema said. “First take a bath, then I’ll give you food.”
“Oh Mom, even on a holiday you don’t let me breathe! I get one day off in a week, and you want me to bathe and study first thing in the morning. I have the whole day to study.”
Iversær looked at him seriously. “Monu, Sonu has a test tomorrow. You should prepare for it too. Play later.”
“Papa, I will study. There’s time.”
“That’s the problem,” Iversær said. “Those who don’t work on time always regret it later. Whether it’s work, eating, or sports, everything has its proper time. Use it well, and you’ll move ahead in life.”
He picked up his bag. “I have to go out for some work. In the evening, I’ll listen to both of you answer the Hindi questions.” Then he left.
By mid-morning, Sonu had finished his Hindi revision and started decorating his English project. Monu, on the other hand, switched on the TV. His friends came knocking.
“Monu! We’re all waiting to play badminton. What are you doing?”
Monu shouted toward the kitchen, “Mom, I’m going to play!”
Sema came to the door. “If you go now, when will you study? Your marks will suffer.”
“Mom, the test is tomorrow, not today. I’ll study in the evening. The project can wait. And marks—well, that’s luck.” He ran out before she could reply.
When Iversær came home in the evening, Sonu’s project was neatly done, and his test preparation complete.
“Good job,” Iversær said. “Sema, where’s Monu?”
She just raised her eyebrows. A moment later, Monu walked in, still holding his bat, his shirt streaked with dust.
“You’ve been playing since morning? Looks like you haven’t even bathed, let alone studied.”
“Papa, it’s still evening. I’ll study.”
But Monu’s “tomorrow” habit meant most of his work stayed unfinished.
The next day, Sonu scored well in his test. Monu’s marks were poor. His teacher scolded him for the incomplete project. At home, Sema didn’t spare him either.
“Monu, have some shame. Your brother is the same age, but he manages his time and stays ahead. You keep delaying everything and fall behind.”
In the evening, Iversær saw both their test papers.
“Exactly what I expected,” he said. “Bad marks in both Hindi and English. You thought you’d finish your project ‘tomorrow.’ How’s that luck of yours now?”
Monu looked down. “What can I do, Papa? My luck is bad.”
“Son,” Iversær said quietly, “people who waste time and rely on luck never move ahead. Luck isn’t given to us, we make it. Sonu had the same holiday as you. He used it well, and you can see the result. If you want to be respected, learn to value your time.”
Monu nodded. “You’re right, Papa. I understand now. From today, I’ll follow the time, so you can be proud of me like you are of Sonu.”
