The pink front door had admirers. A spotlessly white house with a pink door looked cute and inviting. From a distance it used to stand out. Travellers usually smiled who liked something different from the rut. Most of them assumed that the owner must be a woman as the house was in the shape of a teapot. The handle of the teapot had a curved staircase with glasses and the view of the garden facing the house was always refreshing for the imagination of the onlookers. The spout had an iron grill to keep intruders at bay. The roof in the shape of the lid had the house’s name engraved on it. The hollow body had the pink door in the centre. 

Nobody saw any activity around the house though it was well maintained. The white colored gated home had walls on its sides and this gave a very secure look overall. The house was situated at the end of the road. The road had lush green trees. There was no habitat for a mile or two and this was the USP of the house. It was somewhere in the outskirts of New Delhi, the capital city of India. This area was not frequented by daily commuters but by people who loved to explore on their wheel as a part of a long drive. Some of them used to halt, finish their snack and drive away. 

Steven, a septuagenarian, loved this house. He was in the last leg of his life and this place was a perfect reverie to make the most of his time. Death was near and this was not a mental block for him from the very start. White hair celebrated his youthful charm. He went on walks after dinner along with his childhood friend Rafique. Rafique loved to dye his hair though he was of the same age as his friend. Rafique looked haggard in spite of donning such a hairdo and on the contrary Steven just didn’t look his age. He used to look fifteen years younger than Rafique. 

Both men lost their girls to other men and never married. They believed in old school love and moments spent with their sweethearts in the prime of youth were enough to lead their lives. Their friendship meant a lot to them. Steven and Rafique owned a garment business which flourished in the hands of talented managers. They reaped the benefits round the year of customer footfall. Till the time their age allowed them to work they took care of everything but once they felt they needed to retreat for their own good they left it in good hands. The managers were loyal and maintained discipline. 

Rafique admired the colors of youth and he wanted to die in the halo of a youthful looking exterior hence the black hair. This phase in their lives was like a golden period. Far away from the madding crowd they were living a dream. In the company of each other there were late mornings, they guzzled tea twice during the day, ate the best of foods and were actively involved in keeping the house liveable. Steven had curly hair and that gave him a very charming look. Deep eyes and a straight nose got a lot of attention from girls in his hay days and he felt both the features were his assets. 

Steven found Rafique a tad handsome than himself. His friend was too much into sports and his physique oozed every bit of it even now. Rafique liked to walk in solitude and this was one of the main reasons for his good health.  24*7 househelp in the form of two healthy men in their 30’s used to stay in the house to take care of these aging friends. Reading, playing chess, watching the stars with the help of a telescope and doing research on the same kept them awake late in the night. Early mornings were not their kind of thing. Sleeping late got them energised to face the next day.

When both were young they were hardly home once they returned from work. Casinos, bars, theatre and movies kept them busy. They both found love again.  It was just destiny that they were unlucky yet again. Their sweethearts had died in a road accident and that long-awaited date with the girls never happened. An ill-fated day in November took away all they had got. The wedding of Steven was on the cards in his 35th year of existence but it never happened. The shopping spree of the women of their lives had taken a very tragic turn. The two friends were like a soothing balm for each other and this helped them come out from this grief. From then on singlehood never got on their nerves as bromance filled it all. There were fights indeed but all was manageable. 

There were hardly any visitors as most of the communication technology took care of it. Eyes, gestures and expressions did the talking mostly. Steven adored the color pink and white was Rafique’s favourite. Both loved tea hence their place of living was constructed in the same way. They had separate rooms for themselves. A common dining area had the best of moments. A room for study which had books and indoor games kept them happy. The floor of the spout had a fire hub and Winter was just perfect in that part of the house as it was a place to just feel the stillness outside and the noise within. The kitchen had a small room which was for the two servants. The garden was their baby. 

For a decade Steven chose to live like this with Rafique. It was out of love for him that all turned out to be very smooth. At any cost he never wanted to let Rafique feel isolated in any way. On his 60th birthday, as old age was catching up on him, Rafique just didn’t see the hammer that was in the carpenter’s hand.  It accidentally hit his right ear and years of medication just didn’t let him recover from the hearing loss. Steven was a very understanding guy and the tuning between them was beyond awesome. They never wanted words to communicate. Conversations through eyes and all other mediums kept continuing and the time they still have on Earth looks promising and good.