All at once, the air got merrier on that hot summer afternoon as we heard the resonant sound of popsicle man's bells ringing from afar. "Buney, hurry. Come upstairs", our grandfather bellowed out from his room up in the house and although he had called just for me, Sachin and I both ran up to him as fast as we could.

As the barafwala - the popsicle man, seemed to get closer, we sprinted from the house towards the west where we saw him approaching us. The coins we were just handed moments ago were still in my enclosed fist when little Sachin decided to snatch them and run towards the barafwala. His raring to devour those colourful iced popsicles could be seen on his hurried hands and gazing eyes.

Running back to the yard with popsicle on each sticky hand and gloppy drips all over our chins, we jumped with joy and gratitude. Hajurbuwa, our beloved old man, would smile at us from the balcony above us as we continued with our happy dancing and silly bickerings about the possible best flavour.

It was astounding how hajurbuwa always found his way to us. He knew the right thing to do and how. As I looked up at him every once in a while, he would be clapping his hands as we celebrated the moment he had given us, and I couldn't help but think of how if God was a human, it would be him.

I was seven, or eight perhaps and I didn't know what God was- or if it was anything at all- or who humans were but I jumped to a conclusion that hajurbuwa could be both.

Summer evenings and cold air felt harsher back then, probably because we were kids. I've realized a lot of things feel different now that we're older but love- always the same, always escaping from where it took refuge.

Hajurbuwa planted starlights in our dull, lightless skies and love in our lives. I've seen it sparkle in our eyes; reflection of mine on Sachin's and he must've seen his on mine, even if he has now forgotten them.

Back then, I thought hajurbuwa could be both - God and a human; a deity and an ordinary, and now that I'm older and he's long gone, I understand he really had been the twain we took him to be. At least to little Sachin and quite-almost me.