Three Musketeers

It's day 70 of me meeting my coolest, moody, and stylish new friend and also the same day when I left my warm, steady old friend.

There is so much of my old friend around so little of me that it's getting hard to know my new friend. My favorite side of the bed, the way six-thirty pm chai smells, that fight with my brother for AC/TV remote, unmade bedsheets with wrinkles in my shape of the body, the hills painting they draw on the first day of kindergarten, that movie night, the carvings on the last bench, intense Chinese checker game, the tempting smell of pani puri, that one favorite room in the college, that famously known secret, that one favorite chat wala, that same sooryavansham film in sony tv, my home and its all you, you, youu.

Happy farewell

Thinking about my old friend might sound like a broken record but you're everywhere, every page of my old book which I never wanted to turn but will turn to the fresh pages of the same old book because there are so many places waiting to be in my box of memories I hide under my bed, turn because there are so many bizarre dreams I still haven't seen in the middle of the with my new friend, turn because they are so many new books I haven't smelled yet, turn to change my new friend's house to home, and turn turn turn because picture abhi baaki hai mere dost.

And finally, turn myself from a boy to a man and meet my old friend India with a full box of memories from my new friend United Kingdom.

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