She was all of 6 when she first moved into the locality. Her father had been transferred to Bombay from Calcutta. A few weeks younger to me, we went about playing as kids do. Running the stairs, climbing trees, skirting the surf as we plunged the beach. Yes we lived by the beach. Years passed by. She grew into a little angel. That was her name too. And then she went to college and came graduation day. She was the cynosure of all eyes. She knew it. We all knew it. And then she was to get married. That was the first time I realized she was living in falsetto. All her wonder years she would be playing with the boys. So it never mattered, if she wore the pants. But now it was time to wear the gown. She realized she had no assets to show off. So she went and did herself an overdose. A week after her marriage she came over for a cup of traditional coffee. And then I noticed she was hirsute. I asked her while her husband turned away, who wears the pants in the house. She wanted to know why. I said because I notice you have started wearing the beard. She had erred with the use of steroids. She went as all of my generation would, to the Middle East to earn her share of petro dollars, and after a 5 year stint migrated to Australia. Last week she came calling to see her mother at home in Mumbai. The door bell rang. I opened, and there she was all excited as we were meeting after two decades. She dropped by to spend an evening with my wife. But somewhere we never connected. She was no longer the angel I knew. She was all chinked up to look younger than her age. I noticed as she opened her wallet that it was packed with plastic. Maybe she extended this to her persona. No longer was she human. She was a porcelain doll. She had done the big B.I was left wondering why could she not age gracefully!!
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