I saw her at the reception desk
Of the real estate firm
When I was on the lookout for an apartment.
Her skin was translucent.
And it glowed like a glass jar at night
With a swarm of glowworms in it.
For no reason I asked her name,
‘Shafura’, she answered without a demur.
Met her on the street one day.
She stopped and I said hello.
‘I have a brother, Shafaqat,
And he loves to play football’,
She said without any reason.
She was wispy thin.
And the saree wrapped around her
Like wind around a tree.
No I did not love her.
Or did I make myself believe
That I did not?
Because her name was Shafura
And her brother was called Shafaqat?

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