The muffled echoes
Of the motorized boat
Cruising towards Gandhi-ghat
Had me in its spell
On an errand to get a technician
To fix the errant printer
The wintry breeze
Blowing across the dusty plain
Directed the course of my movement
Led me to the ground by the Ganges
Synonymous with my father’s name
The ground on its eastern side
Rising to the height of a hillock
On which we would sit proud
Watching father dribbling past
Unleashing a stinging volley into the net
I saw him
Showing his wizardry with the ball
On this very ground
In a dream
The night he took eternal leave of us.