I hear the gate clang shut as I place the teacups on a tray beside a plateful of their favourite Karanchi Bakery’s fruit biscuits. I greet them back to their cheery “salam” as I put the tray on the table on the front porch and retreat back to watch them from the door as they settle down on wicker chairs for yet another day of morning tea chats. My father and his best friend of almost fifty years, Munazir Bhai. First as college friends, then as colleagues and now as retired neighbours of the past ten years – their morning routine had always been like this: walks, hot tea and chat full of politics, work, family, plants, books and anything and everything that they could talk about for hours. My heart warms thinking of their dear friendship – of their clockwork hearts whose cogs are so well-oiled with years of love, respect and support for each other. Their morning walk, tea and talk are fuels to their life without which they mope about for the rest of the day. As I watch them, my eyes fill with tears and I send a heartfelt silent prayer to the One above the heavens that may their rare and precious friendship endures for years to come.
I had written this story as part of the prompts given by India Writing Project.