Your endless talks, will it be the same?

Ten years down the lane, will you call my name?

Lhapso Ri, that is what we call this mountaintop back home in Shimla. Whereever Tibetans stay, they hoist prayer flags and offer prayers at a high point in their area. In my hometown in the hills, this is the highest place and thus, a perfect place for a Lapso Ri.
Every year, whenever it is an auspicious day, one can see colourful prayer flags and thick smoke from incense twirling towards the sky from there. Blue, white, red, green and yellow prayer flags were a source of peace for someone like me who usually finds peace in strange things.
I would spend hours there, thinking and talking to myself. At times I would take my books, which I hardly read, and walk up the steep hill. The moment you reach the top you feel a sense of relief, feel like you have scaled the Everest.
Now I rarely get to go home, except on holidays which is like once or twice a year, and ven during my rare trips I prefer spending time at home. Suprisingly, now I spend my hours reading books. My house provides me with a magnificent view of the valley (i dont know whether it has a name) and my books, ample space for me to get lost.
I miss the Lhapso Ri and I miss my friends. Every one has grown up and now we don't have time for each other. Someone is even married and has a daughter. I hope he takes his daughter there and tell her stories about our gang and our antics.
At times I wonder if anyone even goes there now. No doubt the place looks amazing with new prayer wheels and colourful pillars supporting them, but I wonder whether the place still has its charm left. I went there this February during with my family. We hoisted our prayer flags, said a prayer and played in the snow. I wonder whether the old tree remembers me, remembers the silent tears I shed under its shadow.