You know, when my son comes home from Guwahati for pujas, he talks about those floodlit nights at the stadium, how the boys from little hill towns run like they have the wind of the Loktak in their lungs. I think of my own loom—nobody watches me thread the warp at 4 a.m., but the shawl that comes out holds the pattern of forty monsoons. The pipeline is like that: quiet, patient, and it doesn't need a committee to know which thread is strong enough.
#northeast#isl
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