The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

Sundays at home used to be ghazals, after ghazals, on the National Panasonic stereo, a prized possession that continues to work to date. 55 years, and counting. It was one of those melodious afternoons, that I got permission to drink my first cup of chai, and coffee. It was then that the family made all sorts of plans. It was then that we were together. My dad was traveling for work most weekdays. So weekends were special.

Tara has a double swim class this afternoon. At first, I decided to hop along and spend time with her and Agam at the pool. But then something took over. Perhaps the rain, and its promise of nostalgia. So I stayed back.

Picked a book, made a cup of coffee, and perched on the corner of the sectional. Quickly got distracted to curate my playlist for the next hour. From Ali Sethi to Iqbal Bano, Quratulain Malouch, Farida Khanum, Ghulam Ali, and Abida Parveen, everyone found a spot on the list.

It was the right thing to do, to stay back. Hear the voices of my childhood. Get a little misty-eyed, and reminisce a little.

The weather is outrageous and unpredictable. But the unrelenting play of sun and rain is enough to keep me entertained. There was hail too.