By my sister Shadab Zeest Hashmi I know each poplar and willow of this town, how telephone wires sag with the weight of belligerent crows, the Tonga-horses wait at red lights. I know afternoon shadows on slate verandahs, the squeaking of a rusted see-saw, the breaking open of a walnut in a door-hinge; its embossed shell, a secret cracking; the winter sun warming the mosque’s marble, plums sold in crates on the road-side, corn with salt and lime, the radio at the tandoor playing filmi songs, the whiff of Lux soap. I almost say to you, Look out the window, look, look, look! My library with beetle-eaten furniture, my raw silk bazaar, my ancient fort! And look, the bakery that sells pink coconut rolls!
Posted on: Fri, 10 Oct 2014 10:51:07 +0000
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