when I was just say a toddler
Dad kachha house was something too romantic to me
I remember
a nice day Dad bought two rabbits for us to play with
We planned our best
a small ditch was dexterously dug
and small bits of wheat loafs
a pot of water and milk in another make shift utensil
Dad was having a very big wheat cleaning porous dust cleaner
we put them underneath during late evening
probably we could not visualize its bio instincts
cat sat on it
the fear psycho killed one of them
next morning we requested Dad to give back the lone heart
where it belongs to
Puran Chand was a professional cyclist during those days of happenings
he used to bring people from sirsa and fetch them back too
it was a kacha road along the banks of water supply canal
well maintained by a baildar and staff
I remember it was in use till very late
I used to go on local bus to meet Dad
and generally lost at the glory of
that pathway
its now in ruins just like my Dad house
No comments:
Post a Comment