All through last night, a chilling wind swept through my dreamscape. I witnessed a hawk perched atop the Taj Mahal’s dome, gazing towards Delhi’s Lotus Temple. I observed some khaki half pants, draped like mourning banners in a Muharram procession. All these scenes unfolded before me. Gradually, they merged into your dream. There, you embarked on crafting the world’s most contemporary chimney, nestled beside the paths I often tread. Well the traffic guard doesn’t know each route of mine converges at College Street. Near the old party office, in the evening’s embrace, with a new storyboard, eagerly awaits me Chaplin.
