I went back to drawing and thought about the time when I’d gone to Delhi with Abbu and met a boy who was drawing. I’m writing a letter to the boy after a year. But I can’t send the letter. Now I draw everyday. And I think about sending my friend a letter.
This piece is the first in a series of reflections on and conversations with interpreters who have embedded themselves in the city they translate to others. Their imageries and imaginations provide ways of seeing the past and present of the city as also forms of caring about the city to future generations of interpreters.
This time Nana Saheb seems to have picked up a bigger stone than before. He aims it at the dog barking from the opposite terrace. The dog has been watching this drama of fistfuls of air being aimed at him for a week now. And he is no longer afraid of the old man’s fake… Continue reading Donkey
Chiragh Dilli 