And, the door stayed open

Mid Day - - OPINION -

I loved read­ing Paromita Vohra’s col­umn, ‘Knock Knock, Who’s There.’ Our child­hood was spent run­ning away with the doo­d­hwala’s cy­cle, while he fin­ished the rounds of ev­ery flat in the build­ing, and then the fi­nal flour­ish, a small tiny glass of kuc­cha doodh! Never tasted doodh so pre­cious since then. And then the long, long re­la­tion­ships with the rad­di­wala (how did he know it was time to give the pa­pers, I used to won­der), the chaakud­haar­wala on his cy­cle ma­chine on his back. And my mom told me the Kab­u­li­wala story one day, and I used to wait for the kaanch-baangdi­wala and ask him if he was from Kabul! JANAKI VISVANATH

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