My friends are frightened of their abbus, staying out of their way. They slip out of their homes. When they return, they hesitate for a long time before fearfully ringing the doorbell. I’m not afraid of my abbu. I run into him all the time. When I’m going out this door. When I’m going out that door. When I’m coming back. We stand side by side on the balcony. When I hail a rickshaw, I see Abbu smiling at me from the balcony.
