"Eyes like twinkle twinkle star " - and imagine watching these eyes light up, light up brighter than the star from somewhere around here which sustains life.
They light up and those familiar sights which may not be any more than what they seem, or maybe far more than what meets the eye.
For she - only she - when she looks at those sights she doesn't glance at what they are but she reminiscences what they mean.
In the embrace encouraging air that unspoilt hill stations always spread in plenty, she walks down the crowded street, smiling looking at the old shop selling sweets, looking appreciatively at the hopeful street seller keenly glancing at her watching out for a faint flicker of interest.
She stops at a small door, small, far too small for anyone with anything more than humble proportions to ease themselves in and as she walks in she knows that its not just her memories but her taste buds and her senses, all await not just a delicious but also a nostalgia filled mouthful.
They keep twinkling both with relish and with joyful memories and she shares the most delicious of meals with me by her side. How wonderful would that sight be"she in her school uniform stopping by on her way home just to enjoy a meal before a meal.
She talks to me about how she had the best jalebis in the world - and she watches me devour them just as she says so.
A mouthful of red - a tongue burnt - and a memory re-energised. She says kwai - and the look of what that could do to me - reminded me of the "bridge on " .
The constant twinkle makes me want to be there - makes me wish to be with her through those days of education enforced skirts and forever conspiring, life affirming friendships.
And through it all - the three of them, friends through many lunches and condiments, I watch them sit on the hidden walkway looking at the valley below, holding each other - both for love and warmth - a smile breaks on my lips as I imagine - imagine memories.
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