JISKO TUM BHOOL GAYE YAD KARE KOWN USKO
JISKO THUM YAD HO WOH AUR KISE YAD KARE
Josh Maleehabadi
The westerly in my Coimbatore would bathe you, like mad. Sudden sprays of rain like volleys of sharp arrows would rattle gustily against your unmentionable features and left your whole inside shivering. The torrential rains would be swift and swifter than your twinkling of your covert eye. The limply traffic would float in the garbage loaded grey grimy and dirty waters splashing it on all over your best and clean dress you would wear to the college,cosmopolitan club or office. The seven ponds around the town namely the kulams would don now imperiously like the mini Arabian Seas, with grubby copious waters. They had their myriad murky intrigues. Green foliage around with colorful mantle would slyly greet the chirping birds to their murky delight often during the love filled evenings.
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