A Lost Memory Of Delhi

4.6/5 - (11 votes)

By Agha Shahid Ali

I am not born
it is 1948 and the bus turns
into a road without name
There on his bicycle
my father
He is younger than I
At Okhla where I get off
I pass my parents
strolling by the Jamuna River
My mother is a recent bride
her sari a blaze of brocade
Silverdust parts her hair
She doesn’t see me
The bells of her anklets are distant
like the sound of china from
teashops being lit up with lanterns
and the stars are coming out
ringing with tongues of glass
They go into the house
always faded in photographs
in the family album
but lit up now
with the oil lamp
I saw broken in the attic
I want to tell them I am their son
older much older than they are
I knock keep knocking
but for them the night is quiet
this the night of my being
They don’t they won’t
hear me they won’t hear
my knocking drowning out
the tongues of stars

Read summary and Detailed analysis of this poem, here.

1 Comment

Leave a Reply

Discover more from !NS¡GHT

Subscribe now to keep reading and get access to the full archive.

Continue Reading

%d bloggers like this: