Freshness

Saturday evening. You walk along Church street, unhurried, munching 2 rupee groundnuts, because you're not going anywhere, and you are quite content to be not going anywhere. Walking down the road, two young boys, obviously newly arrived in the city from a small town, all nicely dressed up, in their own version of "smart", hair nicely combed and in place. They are excited, and slightly nervous, possibly because they are in a big city on a Saturday evening; they are talking animatedly.

I notice they're walking holding hands, like small children, unaware of what connotations it could have to over-informed city people. For when you are in a new strange place where all your usual confidence will prove to be too little, there is no bigger comfort than that the hand of an old Friend.

As they pass me by, I smile, my nose tingling at the uncommon breath of Freshness.