‘a speck of dust hanging/in a vertical wall of light.’ ( Letter from the Hills ) - Amit Chaudhuri

Abhi, Babla and Sandeep slept like primeval creatures huddled on the island of the bed, close to the horizon, outwaiting the dawn that would bring the first thought to their heads. Their bodies slept with a pure detached love for every moment of sleep.

It never became so dark in the room in Claremont; some light, inquisitive and worldly, always entered through the curtains

‘where the noon is a charged battery, and evening’s a visionary gloom’ ( St Cyril Road, Bombay )