February 08, 2009
Huzrat kothi, your home
another minor minaret
lost to history and Mughal nobility
to a stampede of life, moments and memories.
have always been streets that have weathered
and a torn sky that has overgrown to people
hangs on pegs of tombstone drying its tatters
the sun burns its way and a piercing June wind
a seller's voice
mangoes and utensils
tamarinds and jaggery
clothes and clothes...
Oh! belief and rain
I spy a
white salwar and dupatta
sheltered by a pock marked door
ghungroos jingled a runaway tread
in a smile and an aroma of familiarity
Ammijaan's voice calling you back
a muezzin’s cry restraining from a nearby mosque...
I had once held to storms, seasons
and shadows in stained glass windows
as a hundred pigeons took off to nowhere from your loft
I sat on steps,
of your eyes
sifting edges in a
I had found
Silkscreen Print and Poem by Amitabh Mitra
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- » Published on February 08, 2009
- » Type: Opinion
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