It felt like a film. And all of the old Delhi in its nightly beauty seemed like a blur background.
Let’s leave it like this. A photograph, of sorts. Preserved forever as the present without any distinction of time.
Maybe also like a silent film where dialogues come after the moment, sometimes skipping it altogether. You hear what I say only after I say it, anyway. For my voice in the present belongs only to me. You hear it after the moment I have actually spoken.
We all belong to different times, that way. We cannot escape these timescapes except in instants we do not speak to each other.
Beyond Six Rivers 
2 responses to “A night in Old Delhi.”
This is beyond beautiful.
I almost felt I was there in that photograph somewhere…extremely embarrassed to be a part of a frame that shouldnt include me.but loving the frame nonetheless.
“If memories could be canned, would they also have expiry dates?”
Thank you so much. 🙂
All photographs have more people in them than we can see. I am glad you liked it.