I have seen you in those old pictures in albums, in frames your presence in black and whites in gilded letters, I have spelt your name
I have seen your deep black eyes hidden behind a warm wide smile I have held that pair of sombre silver spectacles that you wore with style
I have seen a captured moment of you in your library surrounded by a monument of dark hard bounds I have seen you standing on the banks of Yamuna on pebbled sacred grounds I have smiled with you as you tossed your head back in laughter against the obvious grey blue I have danced with the flowing waters as they rippled in delight with you
I have watched closely the silver glints in your hair I have seen you immersed in a book settled on a carved teakwood chair
I have heard of you, your world, your stories hard times encountered your simple yearnings your ardor for teaching those who had given up learning your passion, your simplicity your honesty
I have seen those hand written Urdu poems that you penned though I cannot read a word of them, each word comes alive I see how my fathers face brightens up as he reads to me from a chapter of your life
It would have been wonderful to know you to hold your hand and walk those steps along the Yamuna laugh with you, perhaps spoilt be step into your world have you talk and read to me share an ice cream steal a corner of the old carved chair too
for I am told over and over again that I am so much like you
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