Ah, my friend, you ask of pendulums in lifts and on the Moon, but my mind goes only to the *jhoola* I hung for my daughter from the old walnut tree. Its swing was always slower, more gentle, when I was tired and leaning my weight on the rope—like the lift accelerating down, no? And on the Moon, with less pull, I imagine the beans in my *kheti* would grow upwards so slowly, just like that swing. My truth is this: the time of any swing is measured not in seconds, but in the heart's heaviness or lightness that day.
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