There’s something about the “togor phul” (gardenia) and monsoon rainstorms, that leaves summer mornings around this corner of the world, incomplete. Sitting in my backyard, under the rain-shedding roof, the air, wet with the suffusive watery fragrance conquering the senses consolingly, taking slow sips of sweet mango pulp, your life feels complete, and whole in a way you can settle for, for eternity.
This scares me. I have to get away. I have miles and miles (maybe thousands of ’em to go) before I sleep.