Striding across the road with the handle of my spheroidal leather bag swaddled around my right shoulder, I bumped into a lad with soft brown hair and bushy brows. As she pulled my Mauve Chikankari Kurta, looking straight into my eyes with his crazily fascinating ones, my memory of the 7 year old whom I had met a month ago and am still meeting each day got jogged.
It was on 10th of June, I had met Chippa with his arm enveloped around a stack of newspapers, shouting “Paper lelo” at the top of his puerile voice. As I advanced towards him and my eyes met his virtuous, dark brown ones, in a mellifluous voice, he said, “Didi, ek paper lelo. Maths ka book khareedna hai.” I could see a million of dreams in those virtuous eyes as I stared at them without nictitating for a second and a scad of hardships which the engaging grin camouflaged.
Chippa, I extend my heartfelt gratitude to you for casting an unerasable impact on my life by stimulating me to hurtle after my dreams, irrespective of the hindrances and hurdles.
Dear Chippa, the human version of ‘Aspire to Inspire before you Expire’, Mohammed Rafi Sir's songs sound more melodious when I perch myself beside you, giving an ear to his superhits. I want to treasure you till my last breath for the house feels like a dingy abode, despite switching all the lights on and even ‘Ude Jab Jab Zulfen Teri’ sounds lugubrious without you.
449 wale ghar ke Didi