Where is the music of Suprabatham in the morning?
Where are the cawing of the birds and the singing parrots?
Where are the mango trees and the school boys who throw stones to bring the ripe mangoes down?
Where are the stars I used to see atop my terrace every night?
Where is the dead silence and eerie sounds of Sunday night?
Where is the “Kwality Walls” ice cream wala?
Where is the neighbor who would come to our house to just say hi or borrow sugar?
Where is the joy in competing with my friend on who will be the first to break the news of the arrival of the water lorry?
Where is the innocence?
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