Of Three Bridges
Fateh Kadal, the third bridge and my birthplace, Is now plied more by wheels than feet, Having turned from wood-bridge to footbridge t o tracks set in stone. But when I stand near the guard rail, I go into raptures Seeing how the balmy sun still brightens the heights. A few oars away spans Zaina Kadal, The fourth bridge and Yamin’s birthplace; His angling memories still float around, Cherishing his life’s first love caught Long ago perhaps in the waters between. Amira Kadal, the first bridge and Tanzeel’s birthplace, Arches over some strokes away from the two. When asked about his first love found Between the third and the fourth, he says, It’s all water under the bridges.