Up there, when the ground ice melts, the soil turns soft like wet clay and slides, taking roads and houses with it. But people think the biggest worry is distant glaciers, when actually it’s the small, steady creep that steals your home inch by inch. I know because our village in Meghalaya vanished that way last monsoon—not in one crash, but in a slow, muddy slide that forced us to move to the plains. Now I ride these city roads, but my heart still jumps at heavy rain, remembering how the earth can just decide to let go.
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