It was some day in a summer. One from the old days when I was too young to worry about the hot weather. But the weather seemed to be fine that afternoon. I was home and I must be ten or twelve. You were at my home, may be because I asked you to come or looked like your parents dropped you off. You weren’t that happy. You weren’t sad either. Oh, and you were of the same age too. We had had our lunch and were lying down for an afternoon nap. Mom’s orders. You were in my bed and being a guest, you got to watch the TV, since you told you don’t have the habit of sleeping midday. While I had to go sleep in the hall. I didn’t have an excuse. But I couldn’t sleep either. I was so curious to talk to you. I just sneaked my way out to find you. You were trying to hide yourself from this strange place and you were doing a good job at it. Took me time to find you fully draped in the bed sheet, with only your eyes left uncovered. Pointed only at the TV. I sheepishly called out to you and asked in an ever so low voice, “Do you want some ice cream?” You got up and nodded trying to hide your smile. Then I carefully picked the carton off the freezer and took it with you to the kitchen. I can say from your looks that you were greatly disappointed that’s it was plain vanilla. I was pretty upset to see that look. Then I rushed back to the fridge and took out a couple of Mango bite and frozen Rasna I had left last night. I scooped out the ice cream in two bowls, equally and a little extra for you. Then I let the Rasna on the stove and it melt hardly, forming a cloud atop the vessel. And nearby I stood and crushed the candy into a sandy texture and mixed it with the ice cream. It was all done with so much enthusiasm and such care like it were rocket science. And all the while you stood next to me watching and at the end of it smiled at me with such glee. And I wondered what did I do to earn this dream.