Midway through my walk, I realize the thing I dread is about to happen. Last night’s rain has been replaced by a crisp afternoon sun—a red herring I should have clocked immediately. The ground that looked unyielding is starting to crumble before my shoes have even completed their descent. A stray mongrel barks relentlessly as I grapple with the moss along the slope. With no strong pines to lend me support, I resign myself to fate and let go. Landing face-first into the muddy mountainside in the absence of cameras is a cold comfort. This is not my first rodeo.
Prerna Barooah is a bougainvillea enthusiast from India who is a historian by training and writer by choice. They dream of opening a poetry bookstore one day.