Miss you too

 I met him while strolling casually on mall road. My eyes were fixated at some distant Gorkha girl who was in her school uniform, looking debonair and inviting. Next, I video-called one of my friends to show how Darjeeling looks during monsoon when the clock at this heritage tower strikes 5:30 p.m, though it doesn't strike anymore.

Right away, he joined me and said, "Hey, I want to talk to your friend." Then onwards, I started regretting why I couldn't spend my childhood in Darjeeling, perhaps at a boarding school like Anjan Dutt

We kept in touch till he was heard no more. Sometimes our distant voice echoed over our intentional regrets, political turmoils of Gorkhaland or crisis of living alone. And our time still stands alienated and strikes at unforeseen hours.

We used to talk because we believed in each other.

This evening, he called me up and said, "I miss you." After a while, I saw this image in one of my acquaintance's WhatsApp story.

Darjeeling! I will always remember you for reminding me what I would have not been without you and what I always wanted to be.

And I miss you too.