There is a fire inside me... I am afraid it will consume me!

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Letting Go

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 Letting go… “For in grief nothing "stays put." One keeps on emerging from a phase, but it always recurs. Round and round. Everything repeats. Am I going in circles, or dare I hope I am on a spiral? But if a spiral, am I going up or down it? How often -- will it be for always? -- how often will the vast emptiness astonish me like a complete novelty and make me say, "I never realized my loss till this moment"? The same leg is cut off time after time.” ― C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed There are no words to describe the feeling of losing a parent or a parent like figure.   Today I write for someone who recently experienced loss - the poignancy of her raw grief over her father’s passing away has been gnawing at me! And I wanted to reach out to her, to assure her that she will be fine, words may not suffice, but I had to make an effort. Somehow, despite being aware of the transience of life, we presume they will be there forever with us. As children, we have a propensity t...
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Transience

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  Ross Island, December 2025   The ferry from Port Blair takes just twelve minutes, but stepping onto Ross Island feels like crossing into another century entirely.   The sun shines softly with a warm, gold tone, with indifference in December; the kind of light that has no memory. Underneath it the crumbling ruins fall silently: a church roofless and suffocated by fig roots, the floors of ballrooms taken over by moss, and a swimming pool where there is only silence swims Built in 1858 as the administrative hub for British colonizers after the Sepoy Mutiny, Ross Island was once the Paris of the East – housing nearly 800 officers and their families, humming with administrative certainty and confidence in dinner party conversations. It felt like it would last forever, as all power does.   Then, in 1941, a devastating earthquake shook Ross Island’s foundation. The Japanese occupied the island during WWII. After the war, the British, surveying the post war wreck...
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