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Main unse to jawaan hi hun. Woh hi budde hai.Main: Naah main nahi manta, aap mein ab woh baat rahi nahi, aap to 100 saal ki buddhi hona.Aunty: Konsi baat? Aur 100 saal aise hi boli, gussa mat dilao ab mujhe.Aunty ab sangharsh kar rahi thi apni pehchaan ke liye ki unme jawaani ab bhi hai aur yahi main chahta tha.Main: Huh, achcha to bataiye ki uncle ne aapko akhiri baar kab kiss kiya tha.Aunty apne plate mein padi ek muttor ke dane ko mujh par phek boli: Are are, ye sab tum nahi pooch sakte.Main muh khol kar unke pheke muttor ko pakad liya aur bola: Offo aunty, ab main bachcha nahi jo ek kiss par baat kar nahi sakta. Batao kab kiya.Aunty: Par main to tumhari aunty hun na.Maine tab sahi maoka dekh bola: Wahi to aunty ho usi liye KISS ki baat kar raha hun warna ab tak apko 100 kisses de chuka hota.Aunty ko ispar gussa na aaya aur woh hass padi. Main samajh gaya ki aunty aur meri baat bann sakti hai agar aage sahi pasa pheka to.Aunty: Kiss… Mujhe? Tum na pagal hogaye ho, kal raat sofe pe. Without warning, like a blur he runs down the stairs, not seeing me. The bundle in my hands lands on the thick carpet as I stop the head on collision by grabbing his towel wrapped hips. Startled, he comes to a halt catching his balance with a hand on the railing, his eyes wide under the fringes of wet curls. Moment lasts forever while I drink in the site of wet Adonis, man-child, droplets of water on his bronze skin, clean, warm smell filling my lungs. I should let go of him, half my age, he could be my son. But, I have been watching those smiling eyes looking at me for so long. I have seen him taunt that young flesh one to many times.I’m standing still, waiting. He moves, slowly, as if afraid to startle me, brings his hand to my face and bends over. His lips are soft and sweet. Tender, innocent. His eyes open, frighten, unsure. I can feel butterflies in his stomach as if they are my own.Breaking the kiss I ask: ?Where is everybody???At work.??Where’s your mother???She is.
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