The Address and Phone Book

The old address and phone book stares at me today,

With your name in my neat handwriting,

Written some 20 years ago,

And your landline number and home address.

I still remember the digits and the pincodee by heart,

For we used to talk and write letters so often,

For some things sound better in a letter,

Than speaking into a receiver.

Now that I remember the book,

Your name in the book was a mere obligation,

And a documented proof,

That you exist outside of the phone and letters too.

Years later the book lies,

Untouched with your number, address and letters,

Like a proof of our existence,

Of the places we live in,

And the places we can be reached,

And the places we were,

Before everything changed.

Maybe I'll write you a letter tonight,

Maybe I'll try calling you on your landline.

Author's Note: I'll be honest with you, it's absolutely overwhelming and emotionally draining to leave a childhood home. Even the thought of it would make me teary eyed and now, when I've to actually leave my childhood home, emotions are in abundance. I thought I'll start a series of blogs to keep sane during this transition and this blog is the first one in the series - #GurDaGhar which translates to Gur's Home. I hope you like reading it as much as I will love writing it.