Going Home - Part 1
About a year-and-a-half ago, on an evening like this, with nothing to do, I was sitting on a metallic park bench of a HDB unit in Singapore. Sweating. Due to humidity. And possibly also due to the enormous decision that lay in front of me.
There was no wind - characteristic of a typical Singapore evening. Some kids playing on neatly manicured grass. Some other kids cycling on a well-tarred narrow cycling cum jogging track. Still others playing on the swings and slides atop a rubberized earth. Constant sounds of basketball dribbling emanated out of the adjoining basketball court where few shirtless teenagers were practicing the sport.
Amisha was holding little Vihaan's arms and making him slid on a slide. Vihaan gurgling his excitement every time the descent started.
"Let's go back home", shouted Amisha, "he's hungry".
"Home is too far. Let's go back to our flat rather", I winked.
She smiled.
After a small protest Vihaan reluctantly let go of his grip on the slide. And we walked back in our damp outfits. Still waiting for some winds. The ones that would take us back home. Our home.
There was no wind - characteristic of a typical Singapore evening. Some kids playing on neatly manicured grass. Some other kids cycling on a well-tarred narrow cycling cum jogging track. Still others playing on the swings and slides atop a rubberized earth. Constant sounds of basketball dribbling emanated out of the adjoining basketball court where few shirtless teenagers were practicing the sport.
Amisha was holding little Vihaan's arms and making him slid on a slide. Vihaan gurgling his excitement every time the descent started.
"Let's go back home", shouted Amisha, "he's hungry".
"Home is too far. Let's go back to our flat rather", I winked.
She smiled.
After a small protest Vihaan reluctantly let go of his grip on the slide. And we walked back in our damp outfits. Still waiting for some winds. The ones that would take us back home. Our home.
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