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The othe night it rained …

June 22nd, 2006

I have let my fingers loose.

This evening, I am a conduit for the words
that come through me.


The other night it rained.

4th T Block.


I walk past the lane,


4th T Block.

By the corner is a house,



Beyond the planner’s discipline,

Beyond the architect’s plans and

Built of desires,

Built of prosperity,

4th T Block.


She sits outside the house,

Lights the wooden sticks,

4th T Block.

She keeps the stomachs churning,

4th T Block.

Her grey (ugly) house by the corner of the

She stokes the fires,

As those wooden sticks burn,

4th T Block.


The other night it rained,

4th T Block.

The wind blew and blew,

And it poured torrentially,

4th T Block.

I began my ascend on the staircase,

4th T Block.

As I climbed the first few,

I saw some of her wooden sticks that the
wind had brought into my (rented) abode.

Those wooden sticks, that fire stoked, the
food cooked,

Some pieces of her wooden sticks,

4th T Block.


Strangers in a by-lane,

Strangers in a city,

Will the wind make our acquaintance?

Will the wind cultivate our relationship?

4th T Block.

Will I ever know her?

4th T Block.

Will she be a stranger forever?

4th T Block.

My stomach is churning …

She stokes the fires,

4th T Block.


I wonder how strangers meet in a city. What
spaces does the city afford for interactions between strangers? Public
transport is one such space, but this space also gets encroached by images and
prejudices, often circulated by popular media.


The other night I was at Nariman Point. The
space seemed totally different or should I say indifferent. Somehow, its
character appears to me as if it has changed. Maybe I am trying to read too
much …


Are spaces for interactions between
strangers shrinking in our cities???


  1. June 23rd, 2006 at 12:11 | #1

    as i have said before, u think and fell 2 much, but thats who u r,so……

  2. June 24th, 2006 at 10:34 | #2

    Oh this damn editing thing is screwed! I wanted to put it up as poetry. And I think the post is also totally screwed! Could have just let the imagery of the wooden sticks on my staircase remain!

  3. June 24th, 2006 at 13:59 | #3

    Zai, I think your writing style has also changed. (For the better).
    There’s poetry in prose now.

  4. August 31st, 2006 at 12:54 | #4

    Linked you in the List of Indian Muslim Bloggers.

  5. August 31st, 2006 at 12:57 | #5

    Sorry new to xanga, link is http://www.indscribe.blosgpot.com

  6. November 20th, 2006 at 04:59 | #6

    Hi Zainab!

    This is Raheema, an artist from Bangalore,working in Baroda.

    I’ve been reading some of your stuff for a while now but I came across what you wrote on women watchmen and it struck me to write to you.I really like that peice.

    See you in Bangalore sometime.Are you here now?

    http://www.whosebody.wordpress.com ,