​She walked through the same lane everyday

It reminded her of her father

He was compelled, rather lovingly, to bring a bunch of champa whenever he returned from his morning walk
Four for the pooja room

And one for her mother’s bun
The white cotton sari,

The red bindi

The black necklace around her neck

Failed to impress her

But never the Jasmine on her hair
She looked through the small window near the kitchen, 

The little romance her parents shared

A sly smile, a proud face

They exchanged their little nothings.
She wished she could see this everyday

The ritual still continues

But they live far away in the remote village

And she, in the concrete jungle.


2 thoughts on “#8

  1. Such a sweet romance… 😍
    The parents miss their cutties even more whom they hv seen growing up as lovely loving independent smart individuals… N
    Now when they hv all the time to sipend with children… 😊

    Liked by 1 person

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