Who are you Neeta?
Where do you stay?
Bombay, Madras?
Or, Delhi?
I don't know.
Someone asks if
She is imaginary.
'Have you met her? '
they demand.
I meet you everyday
In deep splendour
I miss you everynight
To sit with the moon.
Do I care if you are
So carelessly real?
The bridges are burning -
Forever yours.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem