Abbah, this RSS I used to see them every morning in my childhood—white shirt, khaki shorts, doing their physical training near the old banyan tree. My father, he was a postman, not a member, but he would say, "Beta, they give free books to the poor children, that is good." But then in '92, when the mosque fell in Ayodhya, our neighbour Qadir bhai's tea stall was broken. No one from that same RSS came to help sweep the glass. Now I see them distributing rations on the highway divider—same khaki, same discipline—and I wonder: is this the same water from a different well, or just the rope changed? The sparrows have not come back, khuda hafiz.
#andalus
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