Pune

After savouring the white wine and hastily eating up the poisson, i thrust the card in cashier's hand and prepared to leave. That was just half the dinner i had anticipated.
I was almost in tears early this morning when I alighted from my train and caught the glimpse of red and blue painted board boasting "pune junction". I was overwhelmed with the flooding memories and the moments of nostalgia which lingered on.
The plan was to meet people. Old friends, new friends, aunts and uncles, grandpas and grandmas... Foes and admirers... But above all, i was looking forward to a quaint evening with close friends where we could relive the old times. Calls, texts and emails had approximately made the days events and plans certain. I was content. After days hubdub, i sank into an easy chair in a bar overlooking the lush green lawns away from the routine skyline of Pune... Only to continue to wait on and on and on. The sun set, and dusk was garbed in dark black robes. I was still waiting. And no friend turned up. Calls were unattended, texts received no reply.
I was crestfallen.
I started into the inky depth of the skies, but could see no star. The Eid moon though, was proudly crouched there... It's presence celebrated around. We, i thought were staring into each other's loneliness.
After the unceremonious dinner, i rose. I saw Mal standing close by. Our eyes met, and we hugged each other as long lost sisters. It was great to finally see a friendly face. We stood under the yellow light shimmering through the foliage and talked as we had not seen a man since ages. The moon was really alone now.
This crisp meeting however, sublimed into the thin air. And we were on our way. The familiar Pune streets and our usual hang out places were calling out to me. The moon was with me, watching it all and sulking with me. It was all there. The streets, the trinkets, the display of food, the traffic and its charm, pedestrian walk filled with shacks and restaurants brimmed with connoisseurs... The familiar faces were however gone. I could pick a face from the crowd and he would be my friend. Things were different now.

Sipping the same old 'kadak chai' and maska bun the next morning, i looked out to find familiar faces. Bhai came to me and softly said, " accha laga... Bahut deeno baad aapko dekha!". John bhai was genial as usual. His hut had now plastic scaffolding. "It's waterproof!", he had proudly showed me.
I feels it touch my inner chords.
My people are still here. Faces have agreed, limbs are probably weaker, times a constraint. But they are there. To miss and care.
This is what drags me back here again and again.