A paradox in my chest.

There are days when I can hear my heart clear as crickets past midnight when I place my hand over it. And days when there is no sound.

[Originally written on 15 November, 2021 at 5 am in Vashisht, Himachal Pradesh, India]

Date

17 November 2022

Up next

Folding a shirt on a windy day. As I was trying to fold clothes, against gusts of wind blowing through the window, struggling to lay the shirt flat on the bed, I thought: It’s

Previously

About a black bird at noon. A black bird flies parallel to the still waters of the river Tapi, its shadow swims in the river in a perfect jugalbandhi. [Originally written on 8