The Ganga Canal flows with more water. The
lassi shop is still there but the lassi has become more costly.The grey hornbill is still hanging around the white
cedar, not acknowledging that the winter is over and the fruits are finished.
Flowers start blooming on the mango tree and the squirrels wait anxiously.
As I move my rose-tinted glasses with which
I was looking for so many years I see that this is not the place I love. The
vague thought of the extreme summer approaching fast discomforts me. I walk
long distances to find a path forward and I see none.
I go and sit at the steps of Ganga Canal and
the mosquitoes surround me.I go to the Solani aquaduct and the loneliness
frightens me.I bargain with the book-seller for a copy of Faiz-Ahmed’s
translated poetry and my Hindi fails.I walk through the narrow alleys and I
feel it as an endless maze.
Man is condemned to be free and that freedom
to make choices disconcerts me. For cities as well as men, existence precedes
the essence. The essence of Roorkee’s existence has changed in course of time and
so is it for most of the men.
