You find yourself in a city where you grew up. Assumptions are made that you will go back to a sea of friends. But only you know that while you are on vacation, the people you grow up with are at work. But that’s an excuse. Sometimes you are not too sure you want to meet them. Sometimes you meet them, and the missing years melt. At other times they stare at you – with the intention of making you squirm. The years that is, not the friends.
You struggle to remember how exactly it is that you used to manage the marathon phone conversations at the age of fourteen. Or is it all really an invented memory. You suddenly realize that despite growing up in this city, you have to renegotiate your relationship with it all over again. Just like you do with some friends. Except for some magical corners which never really change.
For some odd reason, this beautiful song comes to mind. Either it is the late hour in the night, or the haunting black and whiteness of it. Or that this marvelous song just glides over a somewhat-half-moon night. One of the most elegant songs sung “over the phone” in Bollywood history.