I am a witness- witness to an era. So is the whole crop of my generation and the generation after. Born and brought up in a city, should I say of defiance or desolation; I have been the witness- in the words of a poet ‘ to the threshing of the grain’. Something eerie was there in the zephyr- yes the morning breeze that blew across our city; it sang different cradlesongs for us. Songs, which for over three centuries have mixed with chilly wintry winds and soothing summer breezes. That taught ‘us no love for the authority but for the defiant’ and abiding love for the ‘commoners’- the devout. I do not remember in my childhood having ever seen a minister walking through our streets or visiting our school- top … Read entire article »