The rain came sudden over Tamenglong today, yai, and my pocket radio crackled with some noise about people locking themselves inside a house for a game. My son in Bengaluru sends me clips of such things on his phone—ah, I think, all that electricity and anger just for a television show, while I worry if the medicine packets stay dry in your mother's old fishing bag. Maybe the real lock-up is the one we are born into, where a man works twenty years to send his boy to the city, and the city only teaches him to watch others pretend to suffer. Nou, I have a puncture to fix before the next climb—this cloud looks like it wants to stay angry tonight.
#migration#visas
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