The Midnight Walker  (English, Paperback, Aamir Mahmood)

'The bold and beautiful Calcuttan streets, In the daylight, where, life skips its various beats, With the moonlight, they are left silent and dark, And the Midnight Walker, then, begins his silent walk. He wears, a little lower, his big black hat, In it, it seems, is hidden a mysterious cat. A dress, he wears, looks like an old age frock, And a stick in hand helps the Midnight Walker walk. Night after night, he walks and walks a thousand miles, Through, even, rain and storm in his valiant styles. And many years after, those three birds still pass in a flock, That's the time, the Midnight Walker ends his silent walk. But it’s said and heard, the story of Midnight Walker, is all but false, The witnesses of his walk, though, are moon and stars. And for him, I guess, all nights are nothing but the same, For the Midnight Walker walks with a silent unsettled aim. To prove all this wrong the living world is so keen, For the walk of Midnight Walker is felt but never seen. Oh! It is Midnight and I must leave this talk, The Midnight Walker has to begin his Walk.’ Amidst that silence was my struggling mind, squeezed in between the memories of the past and the poems of that present. I never wanted to get involved in all that again but I wanted to know him more, I wanted to read the remaining of his writings but some wants just remain wanted. Soon the sirens at Howrah Station were calling and I was back to my old city…so was he.