It was the colour of his shirt. That unique shade of green, that is the underside of a leaf. Light, refreshing. Like a drink of water in the heat of the afternoon. He walked ahead of me, weaving his way confidently through the crowds. His hair was as long as yours. His walk uncannily similar. I followed. Through the teeming street and then across the bridge and into the quietness of a neighbourhood. I stopped at a street corner. He walked slowly, as if he knew, he knew I had followed and then stopped and see the remnant of your colour for as long as I could.
Title from Dasht-e-tanhai by Faiz Ahmed Faiz. Listen to two beautiful renditons here.
