She can’t go back to the Abhayapuri of her childhood
I can’t go back to the Bombay of my youth
But we can go back to those places
And remember
Remember what it was like then
Remember what we did then
Remember our neighbours and playmates
And all through our stay there
There is a certain blurring
Of past and present
Which is relayed to our children
As their inheritance
But for those who cannot do this
Cannot visit the homes of their childhood
There is an unfillable gap
An excision of sorts
And the present is always
Haunted by the absence of the past