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is that my story,
running backwards ?
with the scenes and the dialogues...
and all monologues, rewind in time...
will i go back in time to reach the space
that dreaded moment
where i walked out in my rage
to never see the face again
except in infinite morbid dreams
the shady painting and crumbled bread
and flakes of red chilly and fluorescent light
not to the lonely days of J.krishnamurthy
neither the dark stations of the central line
not the silent waves of arabian sea
beating the shores of colaba beach
is that moment ever in my reach ?