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“He did not talk… He just stayed quiet. And left. He could have just talked. The same old Rumi, my Rumi, did not talk and just left me. My Rumi, who could talk to me through his eyes, did not even look into mine, maybe from fear that I would see what was writ large in them. He did not let me. He just left. My Rumi, is no more my Rumi. He is, just Rumi.” — Vidhu Kapur
He did not talk… He just stayed quiet. And left. He could
have just talked. The same old Rumi, my Rumi, did not talk and
just left me. My Rumi, who could talk to me through his eyes, did
not even look into mine, maybe from fear that I would see what
was writ large in them. He did not let me. He just left. My Rumi,
is no more my Rumi. He is, just Rumi.