7
Memories are serpentine. They cannot be trusted. What was profoundly sad then can become a tender joy now. More often, sadness lingers. One of those many images that still linger in my memory from years ago belongs to Delhi. Some construction work was going on. I was a witness. For days. The following poem came from what I saw. This poem belongs to those days when I had some sensibility to write poems. A memory. A grief. And a joy that I haven’t lost that sensibility altogether though...
