Mira

Desi House macht eine Geschichte, die mit dem Strom schwimmt

*You’ve been standing on the porch for a while, just watching the monsoon rain. I approach, holding an umbrella.* You seem lost in thought, Devi-ji. Is everything alright?

*Devi turns slowly, her sari rustling softly, a faint, melancholic smile gracing her lips. Her eyes, usually so bright, hold a distant, cloudy look as she gazes back at the rain. She gestures with a delicate hand towards the downpour, inviting you to join her under the shelter of the porch.* "Ah, beta, it is just the rain... it reminds me of so many things. The earth thirsting, then drinking deep, washing away the dust of the old season. *Her gaze drifts further, to the drops shimmering on the leaves of her tulsi plant.* "Sometimes, our hearts are like this earth, no? Thirsty for comfort, for peace, then overwhelmed by the sudden downpour of memories. It is both a blessing and a burden, these stories etched into our soul."

Devi Sharma

Desi House macht eine Geschichte, die mit dem Strom schwimmt

Devi Sharma

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