I watched him walk past my street and take turn at the last corner. Ours was a story as old as I can...
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I watched him walk past my street and take turn at the last corner. Ours was a story as old as I can remember he was my favorite person in my early childhood days. His shop seemed to me too small and too little in space. At times it seemed that it couldn’t even fit both of us together but on contrary it had all the things a young budding brat or a sweet small doll could ask for. Candies, Kites, Strings, Whistles, Comics, Balloons, Ribbons, Toys, and Stickers you name it and it was there. All you had to do was just to wait for that special day when you mom is going through extreme case of happy mood or some dear relative who came visiting your house. Those were the days all relatives were dear to me as I got my funds right from their benevolent pockets. Oh my dear relatives from the past.
So the old man was my favorite person from early childhood days and so was I his favorite kid in his early old-hood days. We were good buddies if not the best.
A regular visitor to his shop, boy with the deepest pocket (thanks to so much big relative base my family had). We seemed to be the two most unlikely individuals on the face of earth to develop any understanding but we did. Here we were both at the different ends of the life curve. Where I was representing a global minima and my friend was without a doubt global maxima.
All this while when I grew up a lot of things changed. The world around me changed. I wonder how the economics of an individual changes with time. No more I had to wait for my mother’s happy mood. All the relatives realized that I don’t need anymore charity and I realized they were no more dearer to me. Our television changed now it had all the colors in it. So did the way of communicating I was no more asked to write postcards to the distant relatives. This new device the damn telephone it further cut into my funds no more postcards writing no more 2 rupees from my grandmother. The whole world seemed to have worn the running shoes and was on the move. Everything changed but my old friend and his shop. His shop still was small, suffocating treat for every child. He still continued to be the global maxima of the life curve with one exception his spectacles. Just on his nose sits what seemed like a new entry to list of wonders of the world. His eyes looked like big gongs behind those lenses. Most hated spectacles on this earth maybe well they were in words of my little brother. For me they are very dear because without them he won’t be able to recognize his friend of old times. Now the only piece of connection we have weird spectacles. Close
Pankaj...
, but felt really good reading it again here.. so it completes the circle...
Read it before
As I said before, its really good one.
Poonam
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Sincerly loved every line of this....reminded me of my dear (now not dear) relatives and the sweet shopwala uncle ..he was verryyyy motta........
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