The first half of summer in this part of India, the northeast, is usually accompanied by clear blue skies. Last year May was no different. On most of our outings we encountered dazzling blue skies. Vibrant. Resolute. It was not the blue of an overcast sky, despite the exhibit of clouds; it was not my bluing blue. Strangely, around the same time, a disquiet had started to descend, a sinking feeling: the kind that gives you goosebumps, you know, that hair-raising sensation on the back of your neck, some sense of imminent pain, which is inevitable. That was when I touched the summer roads.

Following the sky

Summer roads that bid goodbyes

Sailed into the blue. 

And I searched for my new. 

Perhaps we should not drag on, perhaps letting go brings us closer to ourselves?