top of page

Ghalib at the door

By Amlanjyoti Goswami

Ghalib stayed outside

Last night.

I had forgotten about him


Just as I had forgotten about

Other things


In that folded universe:


Galli and kucchamohalla and chowk.

Qasida and nazraana and kalam.


To explain all that

Would take a dictionary

and many anthologies.

Perhaps, Ghalib in person.


Not that Ghalib turned up drunk

After midnight

and I wouldn’t let him in.


He cares, I know.

He still hasn’t received his pension. 

bottom of page