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My lips burst out into a curvy smile for the third time in the past 10 minutes since the arrival of Babu Bhaiyya. He was looking familiar, with his deep shrill voice, and considerate eyes which complemented his scrawny old physique. As I stood still with a stoic face and, my hand tucked behind the curtain, he spilled out that familiar name. "Gudiya Ji, Kitne Bade Ho Gaye ( Gudiya Ji! you are so grown up!). I passed another mousy smile to contain the rush of emotions that my heart went through. It has been quite a while since someone addressed me with this name. Gudiya Ji was the identity that he hooked permanently with the 4-year old me. The unanticipated mention of the name took my mind off the reality and drove me back to the 23 years old streets of Shujalpur. Though my Shujalpur memories were all hazy and blurred, the remnant memory had his presence akin to a stationery tree in the painting. My mother often mentioned about my childhood in this secluded town, where he was the only play companion that I had. Being my caretaker, he looked after me from the brink of dawn till the star-studded nights took charge of the sky, and I bossed him around like a fierce dictator. I remember rushing through the house, from one room to another, and chuckling heartily on his failed attempts to catch me. Most of my Shujalpur memories are bound to the square-shaped backyard, which had a vintage vibe affixed to it. It used to be our main playground, where he often held me in his arms and narrated umpteen stories from the ancient mystic days. His magical stories and their happy endings seated so deep into my heart that I still disapprove of the stories which end with bouts of despair. From a compassionate caregiver to a keen storyteller, he brought perfection to every role that he played in my life. I had his hallowed figure in my mind that always outshine the indistinct picture of Shujalpur (my childhood home). But as held up as I was with my present, I didn't want my first chapter of life to be so nebulous. For as long as I could remember, my heart dwelt in the lonely streets of Shujalpur, which awaited a discovery. I wanted to rediscover the lost pieces of my childhood that might have laid scattered in the desolate streets of the town since I left. But the last few hours were different. Something within me changed and my heart, which always pined for reconciliation with my lost childhood, was no more whining for a closure. It was more settled and immersed in the euphoria of the present. At that moment, I was tuned to every heartbeat of mine, which sang a soothing lullaby to the 4-year old me. I was being a keen listener to my thumping beats when he interrupted my thoughts with the same feeble and shrill voice, "Gudjiyaji, Apko Yaad Hai Hum Kaun Hai?" (Gudiyaji, Do u remember who I am?). The 27-year-old me, zestfully nodded in a "yes", and the crystal clear image of Shujalpur stood ahead of me.