I turned my yard into a little magical place the night my friends came. I made a comfortable camp with space for four beds under a sky full of stars, perfect for relaxing and unwinding during the quiet evening.
Their tiredness from a long trip was obvious when I greeted them.
They let out a relieved sigh and fell onto the mattresses, but we didn't plan to sleep. We laughed, shared old jokes, and talked about memories that only lifelong friends really understand. We chatted all the way through the night, full of warmth and comfort.
I couldn't find the right words to explain how much their presence meant to me.
The house had felt really quiet while my wife and kids were away, staying with their grandmother for the summer. But as soon as my friends arrived, that silence was gone, replaced by comfort, conversation, and a feeling of life coming back.
As we remembered our childhood, time seemed to disappear.
We thought back to the days we raced through the narrow roads of the officers' colony, proud sons of army men connected by friendship and school days. It felt like those memories were right there, just waiting to be touched.
As natural non-vegetarians, we enjoyed a big meal.
We shared plates of toasted almonds, golden fish, juicy burgers, crispy fries, and sizzling kebabs. The smell of blooming flowers mixed with the rich scent of spices, and the room was full of laughter. By the time we finally went to sleep, we weren't just full—we felt deeply happy.
Morning came quietly.
We woke up exactly at nine, still glowing from the night before. After taking cool showers and chatting cheerfully, we came together for brunch. I had told my cook to prepare something special for the occasion.
The table was soon filled with hot samosas, soft halwa puris, and steaming glasses of strong tea.
As always, the conversation flowed naturally as we ate.
It wasn't just a meal.
It was a quiet celebration of friendship, shared history, and those rare moments that remind us why some relationships last a lifetime.