I always miss my city and feel this sense of insecurity that one’s close relations feel about losing the intensity of feelings for the loved ones when they are away, afar. No, I can’t afford loving Kasi any less, now that I’m away from it. I run the risk of losing my own identity with that loss or reduction of my love for my city. I keep the flame burning hungrily, to engulf all that comes to challenge that love.
No, the images above aren’t from Kasi. They are from Udaipur, Rajasthan: one of the most beautiful cities I’ve seen in my life. I feel tempted to add, as Professor C. S. Singh used to add about T. S. Eliot’s love for the Upanishads and the Geeta: that they are the best literature in the world, with the exception of Dante. Well, I’ll let that “with the exception of” clause remain hanging.
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