The fading
light of the late afternoon sun slanted over the tops of the trees.
Like a deep
green ocean beneath our feet.
Stretching
to the limits of our line of vision.
Old minarets
and ruined tombs rose from it. A lost city.
Majestic and
mysterious.
There was poetry in the way the capital continued to buzz and bustle all around.
While this
ancient island of stillness and silence sat unmoved in the midst of it.
Always at an
arm’s reach, but out of sight.
So well
hidden, that we almost missed it.
And on that
terrace, the city of Delhi sprawling below us, growing farther away with each
passing second, you held me.
On winter
evenings, alone on a deserted terrace somewhere, you and I are enough.
Stone cold
sobriety feels like the most intense trip of my life.
