[Visiting the city again after a gap of five years]

This dreamy old city of mine
will forget so easily my name
like it was pebbles I drew from its fame.

Have I, somewhere along knowing this student politics,
lost the sense of the sunlight receding from bare mountains?

Now younger than most, taller than many
when I walk again this crowded Mall road
these rocky hands stroking my pampered soles
seem colder and more hostile than ever

And when I show her my new MS of poems
my childhood friend replies
your book doesn’t reach our city of Simla.
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