March 7

She passed through the town that he called his home 30 years ago. The sign board at the railway station reminded her of the many times he had mentioned the place—the small house that he lived in, the time when he looked down the railing of the balcony and was almost about to fall (she’d tease him that he was kept alive just to meet her and spend the rest of his life with her), the evenings when he would sneak out with his best friend to play, the afternoons when he would rush back home to watch his favourite cartoon show on television, how he’d get beaten up by his father for the day long mischief, or the time when he would stick a candy out his mouth and pose for the camera, or how he always thought that the best part of going to school was that he’d get to wear summer and winter uniforms and how he’d prefer the winter ones over the summer ones. Or the time when he was caught in a heated argument with a girl from his kindergarten class, the day he was forced to wear a little pink frock when he was too young to realise or protest. As she passed through the town, many such stories of his childhood flashed in her mind the way she had imagined it when he narrated them to her. May be, one day, he will take her along to revisit his favorite memories in person and she will get to meet the little boy in him. 

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