A typical Delhi bus with some chirpy, restless teenagers in it, bustling with energy, chatting around, amusing the rest of the junta… On arrival of one of the stops, they hug one of their own who’s about to get down and go on a new route of life, shouting adieus with mixed, confused emotions. The whole ruckus is quite an interesting site for the smiling co passengers, the conductor and the driver.

Five years on… it’s a lost memory for most. The driver, the conductor and the co passengers must have forgotten it as the bus inched away from the stop on that day. Those teens remembered it a tad longer, but not long enough to carry it on this far…

Interestingly, and perhaps, unfortunately, there was one, amongst those befuddled, bemused youngsters, who held the memory close to heart and kept revisiting it until it became indelible, almost perpetual. Too bad, there’s none left to recollect and recount it…

I sometimes wonder what’s worse… abandoning a cherished moment, or not getting to live any at all? I don’t have an answer yet…