We played hopscotch on the narrow street outside our houses.

I visited her typical Brahmin household to watch old Hindi movies on her then-in-vogue black and white television set

while her soft spoken pirate eyed mother made some strong coffee, the smell making me wonder in my little mind whether her husband left her because the coffee burnt her eye!

Exchanging notes when we were sick, we were together by default, not by intention.

Less in thought more in deed.

Less in emotion more in ease.

No wonder miss we did not one another when I moved away from the city while she dabbled in newer friends, fun and feasts.

Parted as kids, somewhere in the abyss of my nostalgic mind I still hoped to bond with a friend from my past.

Somewhere, I longed for that little pearl to join back in the broken string of childhood friendship.

I saw her again, grown but still looking the same scrawny girl. I lunged to hug her. She pushed me away.

“I have rich friends now. Not you.”

Crestfallen, I realised why Papa bought that EC Tv.


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Written by Shail Raghuvanshi

Guiding muse

Can You Hear Me