Scrolling through the by lanes of the city, I was soaking in every smell, every little detail that I came across. This was to be the last dussehra in my hometown, before I left this place for higher studies.
his eyes, i saw, were fixed on the balloon in my right hand a little inappropriate for my age.
he was more than happy when I handed over the balloon to him, his eyes gleaming with excitement of the new found toy.
his father, apprehensive, reached out to his wallet, handing me a ten rupee note. "keep this" he said "you are like my son"
"its okay uncle" I said "he must be my brother's age".
they walked away, with the spring evident in the kids walk...I could not see, but I am sure he was smiling...my day was made, and so were bitter sweet memories.
that was the last dussehra I ever spent at home