5.45 pm in the evening as I watched the sun sink into the clouds and hide behind a mountain, it suddenly pushed me into my little self.
A me, who used to run to the terrace to see off the sun and wave goodbye. To close her eyes and breathe in the fresh evening breeze and smile as she heard the soft prayers at a distant mosque and the conch shells play beautifully.
As mummy called her, she’d run down to her tiny cup of Milo and Bourbon !
And sit beside granddaddy and listen to his stories wide eyed under that gorgeous orange sky.
She missed her grandpa so much. Missed his voice. His way of combating the deadliest problems so innocently yet so damn smartly!
Wish she could run back and savor every sip of milk next to her grandpa.
And the sun went to bed and promised a great day ahead.
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