I met Aatmarama on a quiet stretch of beach, where the sea was patient to us all. While we struggled with surfboards and waves, he came and lay beside me a stray, perhaps, or perhaps simply free. At some point he rested his head on my arms and slept, as if trust were the most ordinary thing in the world. When we began to leave, I told him not to follow. But he did. Again. And again. I remember thinking then that affection was permission. That if someone chose your company, you could choose for them in return. So I lifted him and took him with me to my shelter, believing I was doing something kind. But kindness that assumes is often just another form of arrogance. My shelter was not safe for him. Something went wrong. He was hurt. Scars where there should have been none. And the anger came quietly, sharp, deserved, and unforgiving. “You were trusted.” “You were family.” “You should have known better.” The words were not loud because of rage alone; they were loud because disapp...
Welcome to my unwinding space, where I vomit my mind-bending thoughts with politics, , dystopia, love stories, write some poetry and of course, what if scenarios !