Humayun's Tomb

Having been out for over two months Dolly was unable to get her walk cycle right. She was getting up at 2 am. sitting on her computer till 5 or six and then collapsing with fatigue to emerge at 8. The walk was surrendered, only in her imagination was she able to see teh freshness of the Garden, the red and white tomb rising from the green lawns and teh flutter of teh the neem leaves, the graceul arching of teh khajoor palms and the brisk walkers along with the ones doing yoga. But try as she might she could not get herself roused.

Dolly is back from New York. When she goes there it is like being in Nizamuddin; well in a sense, only teh locale is different. What's this big deal they make out of going to New York. She does the same things there. Watches a lot of Reba, strolls through Greenpoint and Williamsburg where she lives, buys ethnic Polish sausages, browses in discount stores, watches people, enjoys the farmers market and walks down Bedford, passing teh Russian Orthodox Church the crosses which light up on 4th of July fireworks which she can see from her apartmet window, the irony of it, and chats with the earinged doorman, John. Yes she feels as at home in Williamsburg as she does in Nizamuddin, almost as if she has bypassed the whole Mama Mia musical, Empire State Building New York and doved straight into the heart of teh sity and what makes it tick, the ethnic minorities--for her Polish and Hasid, who make the city a kingdom by itself.