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That old house

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The old house situated in the heart of city becomes unusually active on festivals. You would know, if you have ever noticed him stealing glances at mirror shyly on such days. Today is Makar Sakranti and Prerna is busy in making maithi pakoras in breakfast. She serves everyone til papdi with pakoras and tea.
Children leave the house after breakfast. The two sons will be enjoying with their friends. Prerna and Mahesh are at home but busy with their mobiles and tvs, they almost forget that today is a festival.
The old house, in spite of wearing his best and favorite dress, remain unnoticed. The loud volume from nearby decks challenge his hearing capacity. But he enjoys the noisy morning. Children run in the street. Young boys laugh, crack dirty jokes and fight verbally with their components from terrace. Every once in a while people roar 'Katya re' (we have cut it) when somebody's kite is cut by another group. On hearing the noise, he is lost in a reverie when he used to be young and win a kite-fight 20-30 times in a day. There used to be 15-40 people in the house at one time. Everyone has left the old city for posh secluded colonies.
"Those were the days", says that old house to himself. Exactly at this moment, a gang of street boys unknowingly enters into the house to loot a big kite. Prerna shouts at those dirty kids. Ignoring her abuses, they leave proudly with their prized kite. That old house looks at the dirt and spots on his new dress. A smile spreads across his face.

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