Talking on the landline..

Talking on the landline used to be an art, listening anxiously for the sound of our parents’ voices with a beating heart,

So many secrets did we divulge over the tangled network of wires, that the sheer joy and laughter of sharing lit all of our youthful fires,

It was a different age, full of exchanged glances, muffled laughter, and the secret-filled earmarked page,

When a single message or its reply would take a month or more, our hearts would beat at a rate of seventy-two times four,

When every little word of significance was assigned a code, such as ‘Mogambo’ for ‘Dad’ and ‘Parents asleep’ became ‘sleep mode’,

It was truly an age of innocence, and the old radio in the corner saying in a reedy voice, “An amazing shot! Tendulkar lobs it over the fence!”

When ‘Dadi ka Pyaar’ saved us from our dad’s anger filled war, and the afternoons meant licking clean the jar of ‘achaar’

Alas, for those days are now lost in the murky haze of time, when innocence was at its prime,

And therefore, my friends, talking on the landline was indeed an art, and now with a heavy heart from those happy memories must I part.