unaware that it would never come.
Spinning out thousand tales
not knowing where they came from.
Fighting over a packet of maggie
or nibbling half a 5 star for hours
nothing was exclusively yours or mine
the little we had was always ours.
Choosing a tinkle that has to be read now
the happiness of having saved rupees ten
in the old plastic dabba with a hole
life was pure, pristine and simple then.
Come rains off we went to watch with glee
and it was best viewed from the hall.
who would sit which side of Johari’s window
who gets to see the way the rains fall.
Both of us perched on its narrow sill,
though unfathomable we did it, but how?
Have we out grown it or has the world,
Pinky, become too small for our love.