I watch him sit lotus-legged on the thin carpet that hides the stained marble as he breathes in air, inflating his stomach, holding air inside before he lets it go. Eyes closed, thumbs plugging earholes, he hums, emulating the bee. For an hour and fifteen minutes everyday, this is what he does. He straightens his mind in slow bends. My mind tires quickly; I watch him intently, only for a few minutes. He is a cobra, a bridge, a tree, a boat, a bow, so many things, and I remain woman, languidly. Admiringly. His taking of breath is so breathtaking.
Swapna Sanchita is a poet, a storyteller, and an educator lives in Ranchi, India and loves chocolate, coffee, and books, not necessarily in that order. Instagram: @sanchitaswapna