Saturday, April 26, 2014

In J.N.U.

late evening, the library
is yellow rectangles seen
from afar, the babul trees
reluctantly make our way,
three girls jog past us
and the night descends
so softly on the horizon
that she and I do not
notice that years have
passed since we have
known each other, years
where each came with
its reckoning, till, she stops,
we turn in among the babul
trees, and walking over the
silver rocks, she says, 'This
is the highest natural spot in
Delhi,' 'I didn't know this,'
I tell her as we move up, and
under us, hurting, the Aravallis
- the first memory of this city -
begin their dry march to the desert.



(for Vebhuti Duggal)

1 comment:

Chandni said...

This was beautiful.