On August 10, 2003, after celebrating the festival of Raksha Bandhan*, as night approached nearer, I went to my bedroom, sitting there alone; I opened the window and started watching the full moon, shinning in its majestic glory.
Unaware, I was suddenly engulfed by an invisible sheath of space, which wafted languidly, around me. I felt the presence of my father, but could not see him. Even as, I struggled to sense, what was actually happening, a strange rapture seized me. I was no more myself. I had become a captive of some unseen force, and was helplessly groping, in a state of trance.
My father, Mehr Lal Soni, Zia Fatehabadi * was a renowned Urdu poet, who quite often, when driven by the mood to write, used to hum, toss and hold the stub, of a half chiseled pencil, between his thumb and the forefinger, of his right hand…
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