| Not even a noon street, not even Gwalior… The crisscross ropes on the bamboo charpoy threw down lucid shapes as I lay under it seeking respite ripples of a fable in an afternoon of restless sleep. I touched gregarious monsters gentle on a fortwing palace doors holding an inner city turmoil. A stranger time so far away and you beckoning me to cross the long stride darkness of an aftermath of a vicious moment. A curving railway track binding us receding in another season that afternoon. – Dr. Amitabh Mitra |
Not Even A Noon Street
