Dayend

When you have stood namelessly in the afternoon as it slowly turns to evening to dusk to night, and watched the sky change to colours that make you want to paint; when you have felt the sultry breezeless twilight wrap about your neck and ankles with clouds of mosquitoes sharing your very blood, it is not possible to be closer to any man, to any city, or to your children than you are to Lucknow, your own.