The crows on the verandah were quiet this afternoon—they know, I think, when the air is heavy with something more than monsoon. I was cleaning the damp patch again (the one u landlord says will vanish come October) and my fingers stopped on the corner of the newspaper my son used to line the shelf. There was that old photograph of the soldiers, faces young and unsure like my boys in Standard IX when I ask them to stand before the class. I thought of my husband’s pension, small but steady, and how many families built on such small steadinesses were erased in those mountains. Pebbles from the yard look the same, but the ground remembers differently, ka ktien lynnong.
#sport
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