Every morning the red rose of last night turned grey. Just like any other day, this morning I waited for the curtains to catch some tinge of brightness then stepped on the cold marble floor. Just as I approached the curtains to peek through them at the grey painted lawn, Ray, my husband came in with morning tea. Ugh! Now he will insist on rushing things up! You can never give him enough excuses to steal five lazy minutes from his strict schedule. He will insist that you get ready for work half an hour early so that you don't need to rush on your way. Then he will spend the time by repeating the same instructions every day before leaving home, "there is no reason for you to cross the road from the random places! Zebra crossings are painted in black and white." Although we leave for the work together and cross a considerable part of our way to work together, he will always stop at the doorstep to remind me that if the signal lights seem the same I can tell if it...
“When was the last time that you woke up so early in the morning?” asked a familiar voice to Palak breaking her state of trance. The voice was familiar to her to the point of being wary. She was so habituated of having it around that she did not pay much attention to it. Nonetheless, she answered, “Surely not in a while.” The never-ending sky above; the restless Ichamati tirelessly chasing its pasts towards their salvation, the tiny bees at a tree nearby busily humming around their hive, all spread a layer of tranquil contentment over Palak’s mind. She could not tell if she was awake or asleep. She could not tell if she was in her three-star hotel room, looking into the torrent through the shutters of her window or, in the midst of the mist, formed over it. She felt as if she had known the river for all her life. As if it has visited these banks over and over again, in search of her, only awaiting this moment, to give her a message. Then again, she also had the feeling that she h...