It was 9 p.m. I was making rotiyaan in the kitchen.. the same way you had taught me back when I was in grade 6th. How could I ever forget that. Kneaded the dough in that very way, and started making the rotiyaan.But Karachi's hot weather and taway ki aag doesn't make the kitchen exactly cool, and hence a drop of sweat trickled down my forhead, moving to my eyelashes, and standing there at the edge, like dew on the edges of a leaf. I unknowingly looked to my left with a smile just to find the grey tiled kitchen staring blankly and coldly at me. I had expected you to be there watching me do the stuff, but how could you be there when you were so far far way, in a place where I hadn't even set foot in. You'd say, 'oh, garmi lag rahi hai na!!' and try to take the rolling pin from me, but I didn't give in so easily. The sweat drop finally dropped mingling with the tear drops. As for me, I was left in the past. You!! who never left me alone. You!! who never even le...
Life is a mix of sweet and sour stuff, and ofcourse, if I have sugar and spice, somewhere, there has to be something bitter too..;)
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