He was an infidel. His gestures were lethally charming.
I was Sunni and he was Shia. The difference between us was less about belief and more about words — words we had heard all our lives but scarcely understood.
Our friendship did not begin with sect or creed. We became friends at a time when we did not yet know that, upon growing up, people begin deciding who deserves to live and who deserves to die based on names.
Twenty years. Yes — a full twenty years.
The same childhood streets. The same broken cricket stumps. The same ball that
Poetry
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