a winding lane
in old lucknow
giving testimony
to births deaths
gloom and pain
a past appears
to the minds
eye a prisoner
in chains ..watches
me aware of my
genealogy aware
of my ancestry to
a poet who once
lived beyond these
crumbling lanes
past a pebbled well
known as kankar kua
past the chup tazia
house chant of hussain
above a mocking hillock
the path that led to imli
wali gali the tamrind lane
a cluster of house of my
grandfather now sadly
all sold off nothing remains
daroga nabban sab desendant
of poet mir anis buried at gufr
map imambara .home of his
earthly remains ..i sometimes
close my eyes see my young
mother laughing running happy
in this memorable lane now
sadly filled with pain ..my old
wizened grand mother who would
tell me stories of nawabi reign
of my uncle chaudhan mute
mentally challenged but no
not insane .,memories that
haunt me my mothers sister
choti begum..her early death
her mirth her laughter too
died in this morbid lane
at the age of 62 i shot a
silhouette of silence watching
me asking me whether i wanted
to come back her again to reclaim
the past a chapter of my childhood
hidden in the vacuous corners of
my brain..the chill the freezing touch
of winter rains ..so much poetry of
my life flows like a rivulet in this lane
