February 08, 2009
Amitabh Mitra

Huzrat kothi, your home
another minor minaret
lost to history and Mughal nobility
to a stampede of life, moments and memories.

Days and nights in old Delhi
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
that day.

I sat on steps,
footprints tracing
a tremor
of your eyes
sifting edges in a

I had found
that day.

Silkscreen Print and Poem by Amitabh Mitra

An orthopaedic surgeon in a busy hospital in East London, South Africa, I actually belong to Gwalior, Madhya Pradesh, its long summers and hectic politics. I edit a print poetry journal called 'A Hudson View' and a journal on African arts called 'Inyathi' and dream of going back to Gwalior.
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February 8, 2009
05:56 PM


....footprints tracing
a tremor
of your eyes



Deepti Lamba
February 8, 2009
08:38 PM

Beautiful Amitabh. I was transported back to Old Delhi:)

Amitabh Mitra
February 9, 2009
12:20 AM

Thanks Deepti Great that u enjoyed it
Thanks Temporal

Dr Shaleen Kumar Singh
February 9, 2009
12:50 AM

Kamal Ki Poem hai, ek apna sansar rach rahi hai Amitabh Bhai
Hearty Congrats for such nice poem and beautiful image



Amitabh Mitra
February 9, 2009
01:52 AM

Thanks Shaleen Bhai
Happy that u enjoyed it

February 9, 2009
07:31 AM

A wondeful painting. The poem is one of the greatest which I have ever read.

Amitabh Mitra
February 9, 2009
08:29 AM

Thanks a lot Karunesh

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