Kind mama

There is a species of madness that goes undetected. Unfortunately it has no name.

It does not live in you, it lives outside.

It moves skulking in the streets of Delhi. I saw it once at Nizamuddin. It was standing by the road and staring at me.

It is not evil and it is not good either. But it makes nothing. It comes from the land of breakings.

One day, I remember in 94, I was standing on the edge of the wall of near Khair ul manazil and it nearly tipped me over. I am alive and kicking, but maybe it did tip me over and I do not know about it.

Anyway, tomorrow morning I will sit and write. And if I do, I will find out what Vivek said to Sharad on a summer evening in CP.

The corporation is a kind mama. It hold me to its bosom and will not let me go away ever. When I grow up, I will not live with mama.