A few months ago I was going through a very low phase. There was a dargah where as a child I used to go as a mere accompaniment. This time, with great subtlety, Ammi asked if I would like to go along with her, to refresh those memories.
This dargah is in the middle of some crowded street in central Mumbai. I lit the agarbattis and sat on the chess-board tiled floor and shut my eyes. It must have been long, for she tapped me on the shoulder.
“Praying?” she asked, a look of surprise on her face.
I blinked and picked up a rose lying nearby. I touched it to my lashes and felt like I had just embellished a wilting flower with a dew drop.
"khuda aise ehsaas ka naam hai
rahe saamne par dikhaai na de"