“Dil hi toh hai na sang-o-khisht
Dard se bhar na aaye kyun”
“Everything around us said Ghalib. Everywhere we looked, there was Ghalib. Every moment we spent there, it was with Ghalib.”
“Maybe, the hearts of men are made of bricks and mortar. Perhaps, compassion and remembrance are just words.”
Best post ever. I traveled to a place where I couldn’t have gone otherwise (at least not in a long while) and this journey through words was exhilarating. So, so amazing.
(Warning: If you find my normal posts tiring, do not read this. This is so mind numbingly long that it might kill you. And if you still go ahead, don’t haunt me after you die.)
Time: 5:00 PM
It was a hot day. Despite the departing sun, the temperature was still somewhere around the mid thirties. My friend Gaurang checked his watch. Wiping the sweaty glaze off his forehead, he asked, “Do you want to go?”
“Of course, I want to go. But I’m afraid the place will be closed by now. They won’t allow us inside.” I sounded as disappointed as I felt.
“That’s immaterial. This is Ghalib we are talking about. Even standing in front of his closed doors would mean the world to us.”
He was right. We had planned this trip for some time now. Visiting Ghalib ki Haveli was one of our most…
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