Moments Never Die


Memories of a fragrant past…
The soft gentle rain creating music on the window pane,
The shy demure girl walking in the puddle, her white shalwar raised up to her ankle revealing white tender skin,
The wet kitten standing under a tin roof,
The bhutta-wala fanning the fresh baby corns,
The jokes that were as senseless as they could be,
The magic of Kishore Kumar-Gulzar-RD Burman songs,
The late-night conversations on the phone with girls who god knows are where,
The magic of books, suspense, thrill, adventure,
The reading of the sonnets of Shakespeare,
The halwas and biryanis made by mom,
The playful tiffs with siblings,
Tickets bought in black for Bachchan movies,
The Gavaskar innings, the epic 221, the classic 96
The promises made with friends,
The teacher’s remarks,
The romantic heart,
The determination to capture the people’s imagination,
The fragile dreams,
The fantasies revolving around (from Madhubala to Mumtaz to Madhuri)
The vada-pavs, the fish at Mahesh Lunch Home, the baida pav after midnight at Santa Cruz railway station
The reading of pulp fiction in the toilet & the apprehension of getting caught
The playing of cricket with street children
The fights, the arguments, the hugs, the kisses, the meetings, the partings,
The zanjeer maatam at Honda Corner,
Cricket games played with Sonu, my brother,
Moments never die; they become memories.
- NZ
14.11.2019
BN: 188

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