I choose to forget

There is a special place in my heart for this place. The multi-storeyed apartment building flaunting its chipping grey colour. A line of shops selling everything but luxuries. The smiling Rehman Chacha whose morning tea lightens my mood. The old electric shop whose owner rarely visits his dust-ridden shop. Laundry at the roadside having an ironing table as its sole asset. Chinky, Monty and a nameless guy who are ever ready at the first turn to spot me and get their cut for the day.

My home huh, there is nothing to be called as a home. I sleep under the shed that houses some scrap material. Yeah, Shaym owns it. I consider it as my home because he was the guy who gave me shelter when I had no money to support myself, he employed me although he was running in losses. He hired me as an accountant for the job where no accounting was required since he had given up piling scraps.