Tag _sufidiaries
It began with a thought: “I miss you.” But she didn’t know who. Just a quiet ache, persistent like the smell of wet cement after the first monsoon rain. In Mumbai, longing wasn’t special. Everyone missed something: a lost lover, a home left behind, a dream delayed by the local train. But hers felt older. … ... mehr auf sumitajetley.wordpress.com
Not all quiet is empty. Some of it is memory warming its hands. The clock on the wall had struck six with a sleepy, apologetic chime. Outside, the gulmohar leaves rustled like gossiping aunties. A distant two-wheeler coughed its way up the lane. Anil Paranjpe was in his usual chair by the window, fingers around … ... mehr auf sumitajetley.wordpress.com
Some strength is so ordinary, it becomes invisible. Until someone sits long enough to see it. Anil Paranjpe had taken his usual seat on the bench at the corner of Deshmukh Colony, right next to the old peepal tree. It was late afternoon — not quite evening, not quite hot anymore. The shadows had grown … ... mehr auf sumitajetley.wordpress.com
