the gate of the jama masjid

morning prayer time

and on the face of delhi

a sad smile of wisdom and in my being

an intense aloneness

on one hand is the dying urdu pronunciation

the pressure of the narrow streets of history

a few broken remembrances of childhood

and on the other hand

the roar of the indus

friends, involvements and the dreams of youth

to understand all this and

to make it mine and suffer

is not possible in the wilderness of delhi

arif, make your way home

to the barren sea licked sand dunes

and to the islands of unfulfilled hope

and talk to your friends

they will understand

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