Friends for ever. They had vowed.
School days. 30 years past.
Today. One in Mumbai. An Oncologist.
Today. Another in Chennai. A Journalist.
In school. They stole Tiffin. Each other’s.
In college. They hardly met.
On occasions. On rainy days.
Pakoras. A Samosa. They are.
Now. They were meeting. Delhi.
Both at their respective conferences.
They met. At Hauz Khas Village.
Beer. Sausage. Bread.
And they laughed. Happy. Hearty.
Remembering good old days.
How they spent. Fun.
Pulling each other’s legs.
As night aged. The waved for the cheque.
Waiter. Appeared. With a bill. On a plate.
They both sat quiet. As they always did.
At this hour.
Waiting for the other to make the move.
The bill was not the issue.
The tradition was. ‘Do not pay.’
At last, he said. ‘ Allow me today.
After all Today is Your Day. ‘
She looked straight. Into his eyes.
‘In that case, we shall split.’
And opened her wallet.