Dadu

Coming back from school with a sweat-slicked, dirt-licked face
I'd always look forward to you asking me about my day and having lunch together.

And the afternoons when the lunches were "boring",
I'd bug you for a McDonald's meal to which you'd say a firm no at first,

But then, you'd eventually give in to my childish empty threats of skipping lunch and thamma's endless coaxing,

to finally call on that old green MTNL landline, sneaking an extra bag of fries for yourself.

Mischievous smiles had never looked better than they did on my 80 year old hero.

Saturday noon fights of Pokemon versus your matinee Bangla flick were my favourite.

The sulky pouts and low-toned reproaches were always such a scene for thamma to play peacemaker in.

Winter evenings of Delhi's Decembers dotted with steaming cups of coffee and warmer stories

of the "Dilli" that was, with samosas eaten by the anna.

Time machines and magic carpets existed as long as I held your knee and you held my grubby little palm.

Now every birthday of yours and mine, an hour on the clock disappears in our memories, slowly coming back one sweet tear-streaked smile at a time.

Pokemon reruns aren't nearly as fun to watch without the fight for the black and white matinee show.

Lunch comes out of a casserole and not off the stovetop.

Winters are unbearable without shared cups of coffee and magic carpet stories.

You once said to me "Nobody's indispensable", 

not realising while saying it,

that's exactly what you became.