Musafir Cafe -hindi- -

She looked at the walls. The messages. The harmonium. The woman in the red dupatta.

Not burned. Not collapsed. Just… gone. As if it had never been. In its place stood a tall deodar tree, and nailed to it was a small metal plaque. Rusted. Faint. Musafir Cafe -Hindi-

Baba sat down on a cane stool. For a long moment, he didn’t answer. Then he lit a loose cigarette and spoke. She looked at the walls