Posted in Uncategorized

Delhi

Once upon a time in Delhi,
we lost our hearts to each other.

Once upon a time in Delhi,
when Delhi was not a battlefield.
When Rajeev Chowk metro station saw more of stolen kisses and hand holdings,
and not fascist murderous slogans.

When two weeks before holi the city was painted red with colours,
and not with blood of our muslim friends.

When people would come out to the streets even at the dead of the winter to ask for justice.

Once upon a time in Delhi,
when we used to huddle together
in the living room to relish mutton biryani and sheer khurma, (given with love by a muslim friend from Chandni Chowk.),

and not lose our sanity, and patience over the privileged people who can justify anything. Even deaths of a fellow humans, just because they are born to a different belief.

Once upon a time in Delhi, when that dear muslim friend from Chandni Chowk used to get our ‘thank yous’ and ‘love’ and not murder and sexual harrasment threats on social media.

Once upon a time in Delhi,
we lost our hearts to each other.

And may be that’s why when Delhi burns,
I burn a little inside.
Because, it was a second home to me.

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