Did the mountain maker build the thing up stone by unhewn stone from foot to crest and leave the rocks astray to heal the hollows of their supple cavities with mud marinated by the turning seasons? Or did he knead a lump of loose brown soil on flatland like jaggery …
The surgeon tried his best, but couldn’t save the subject’s life. When an illness is arcane, medicine is but subterfuge. The progression of disease was asymptomatic. The vitals showed no anomaly, but the breathing was erratic, threatening to stop any moment. Experts attributed this systemic disturbance to a neurological source. …
Come. I am standing on Platform No. 2. The morning paper’s talking to itself. I overhear it saying, The times are dark. In a space cloven by arrivals and departures, an unseen bird is singing and I don’t believe the paper anymore but only wait to see my own sunlight …
