It is summer in Patna. The gulmohar trees have lost their mind, in full bloom they light up the afternoon sun into an inferno! The roads are dusty, straight out of any of those Bihari gangster movies. The women are still the fullest sharpest and prettiest among all women. I met a couple of old acquaintances, they look the same, only I look older. And what is it with these small towns, they still remember my escapades from twenty years before, of guns and goons and girls? Wish I had not been so Bihari so young, I might have grown up with so many more choices of things to do.
Yes, I did go to the places we went to, to the tree under which I kissed a girl the first time in my life...god, it had to be you. They now have a mall! A big one, the kind we see in big cities, with lovers escalators and pretty housekeeping chicks.
Twenty years is too long a time in time. Much has changed and so have we. The bel-ka-juice tastes the same, only my mother looks much older. Sister Suma still lives in church inflicted penury, dad still does social work and I still miss you like Malda Aam. Time flies to some place unknown to you and me. Someday we will catch hold of this tyrant and take him to the place where we kissed first.