childhood memories

It was a different childhood

life's precious treasure

where there were no feelings of happiness

Where there were no feet of sorrow.

That soil ki gulag had its fun

Coins had to be played before breaking

had to calculate money by his chirping

And when the gulag was broken, the eyes had to water.

That was the different Matka Kulfi

Who used to mix mishri of love among themselves

It was a sip of mango and orange

It was like a sip of tea while taking it.