Leaving Majuli.

The stories of the earth – its mountains and its waters – come to me and I become the earth again. River is a beautiful name.

The mynahs have descended from the highest trees. They perch on the clotheslines singing sweet melodies of the becoming weather. The winds blow and the leaves aim to touch the earth and become it.

I go back to the city even as the heart calls for remembering what is.

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