It is strange and twisty how you make friends with strangers and end up teasing them about long lost friends.
She is like an eight year old, who in his curiosity of the world ends up embarrassing his parents. She needs to be kept pace with and when you walk in overcrowded streets of old Delhi, she needs her fingers to be firmly grasped. Sometimes, you also need to tell her off from staring at strangers or a couple, who are coochi-cooing in a secluded, dusty and off-limits corner of a monument. She is peculiar in her taste for travel, especially when she doesn’t venture out. She stares at the sign boards in Rajiv Chowk and wonders if the whole population of Delhi has descended down at the station to take a metro train to their destination. She avoids South-Indian food and wants to buy the beautiful Chinese cutlery at MT. She is firm in her stand when she doesn’t let you spend a large amount at an obnoxious cafe which serves lunch in side-plates. She is a force of wind, strong enough to sway you from your spot – just so you can save her from buying highly priced accessories, she just wants to buy. She is fun but sometimes, she irritates you like the child, she is. You’d think she hasn’t grown-up. She doesn’t understand the nuances of being a rebel adult and avoids even fruit beer like a devoted good girl. Then, she talks like an eighty year old grand mom with her story of faraway countries and her wisdom of long spent lives. She makes a grumpy morning a perfect recipe of shoe bites, mushrooms and bright colours for a damp winter day. She makes it a day, at the end of which, you can’t help but chant how wonderful it had been.