For Daddy. I have tried to extend a couplet my father wrote when he was researching his post doctoral paper on foreign influences on Mughal Paintings in Budapest. This poem is a tribute to him on his birthday.
The immaculate petals, with hues from the canvas of a water color artist, the ombres The lilting, shifting, blending transitions that fade and intensify and play …
When he left … August 16, 2020. Wrote this on the eve of my birthday the same year. His absence.
Stealing into a forsaken room. Wee hours in the morning , birds, stars and memories.
Sehar tab 6 saal ki thi, aur roz raat mujhse kahaniya sune bina nahi soti thi
Lambi raatein choti kaise hoti ho jati hain ? Jabki sare naghme sirf lambi raaton ka zikra karte hain …