And it has nothing to do with Nicholos Spark..:P

I used to be fond of going to my maternal uncle’s house in my childhood days. As a school going child, I never get much chance to visit my uncle’s house that often. But once in a while when I get to, I used to be more than happy. My mother, I and my sister used to walk the almost 2km road to reach the bus station. We didn’t have private vehicle and no bus route in our locality then. With mommy, I and my sister used to walk but too slow, young us could not walk and my mother would slow down her pace and wait. We used to ask for sweets and noodles on the way. There were shopkeepers we knew from childhood. They would talk with my mom and sometimes generously liberate some sweets out of their jars and without having to pay any penny.
My mother would always share smile with her acquaintance in the road and we would always get the compliments of being the lovely girls, except that many would mistaken my sister as brother. That used to annoy her much.
Today, after decade and more, when I still walk the same road, many stare me saying I so resemble my mother. Unfortunate, they don’t get to compare.

When I completed my grade 8, my school shifted to the town and I had to walk the same road to reach my school. Not that there were no school bus or vehicles rolling, but we used to prefer walking and rambling. And by we, it means me and three of my friends, sometimes other class mates. We used to walk crazy, blocking the already narrow road, wandering. we used to laugh crazy, yell and even eve tease the boys (:P). There were continuous stop in the road, sometimes the mini eateries, the sweet shops, cake shops, chaat and pauu bhandars..The chaat bhaiya used to grin with our glance and the eateries shauji used to welcome us with such warmness.

After our school was over, we never actually get to walk with the same wildness. Even if we met accidentally in the mid road, we don’t share the same road anymore (:().

Then in my high school days, I used to walk the same road but with my cousin most of the time. We were contemporaries but her school was station west, mine in east. Still we managed to find a linking road, a narrow trail in fact that would led us to the cross road from where she would pick her bus and I would do mine. We had very strong bond and the walk was the best time for both of us. We used to talk our heart out; we knew each other from core and love each other as sister, enjoy as friends. Some days, in rain, we used to walk unspoken under the same umbrella. She was the best company I had in the road. Then she finally depart one day and is station actually in the west.
She no longer prefers walking.

Then most days after my high school, I walked the road alone, to reach my college, office and anywhere my feet lead. I didn’t enjoy anywhere except the road. I enjoyed walking the road. I enjoyed the nostalgic evenings on it, and sometimes even the sun.

Today, the road is a busy one, not as a highway but still it is no more a dusty rusty bare road.Increased number of wheels and less foots marching along.

And yet when at some odd days when i find myself (accidentally) on the road, I feel like walking  the memory again.

Under my feet
yet, the soil feel the roots,
Still in the road, same old road,

And it lays open heart.

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