I was walking down the narrow lanes; again wearing an outfit that resembles the whitest lies civilization taught us. To wear a mask, and to pretend. And the Austin Reed suit was really good in its job. I sat inside Barista and started sipping by double shot espresso Italiano. I opened my Notebook and started to punch numbers and make a power point about an industry in which I am supposed to be an expert.
Outside I saw a boy. Just across the street, sipping tea in a roadside tea-stall. I just started walking towards him. The bartender shouted…Avi…Mr. Avimanyu. Nothing was making sense. How could that be? I crossed the road. The boy was looking at me. He was about eighteen years, chubby cheeks. Smiled at me as though I made a Faux Pas. I asked him, “ who are you”. He answered promptly “ I am Avimanyu” . I told him I am Avimanyu too. He said “ I am you”. “Can I see that?”, I asked him pointing out the sketchbook that he was holding. “Sure”. So I opened and saw the sketches.
I did not say bye. I went to Barista and paid and took a taxi home. Went to my Chest. Opened the drawer, that was not opened in many years. I even forgot for how many years. Took out a dusty sketchbook. Cleaned it. The same sketches…
Have I walked to far from which there is no return? I see no footprints.