Sharon Eappen

As I take a walk in the moonlight on a breezy evening, an evening where the many trees refuse to talk to me, I remember you, Muskaan, as much as I push it away. As much as I remind myself of how the paths of my evening walk are filled with girls my age I still have a sharp memory of us, you and I, going around ice cream vendors and sitting on the park bench in my colony. I remember describing the night skies to you, like you couldn't see it yourself and you wondering why I had such an obsession for the night sky. I remember sitting beside you after calling you to come out even when it was late just to tell you how stressed I've been. Do you remember how I'd hold your hand in fright every time we crossed the road? Or how you'd patiently wait for that one truck or motorcycle to pass by because I told so? Do you remember how we'd search around for the big dustbin in my colony (that would magically teleport itself every few days) because we refused to throw ice c...