Cyclist, hiker, and scientist living in the Himalaya.
I build, repair, and wander — mostly in search of quiet roads, good coffee, and better stories.
The message did not arrive; it was discovered. Mira found it while her phone was resting on the scarred laminate of her kitchen table. The screen didn't flash. There was no chime. One moment the glass was a black mirror reflecting the dim, amber light…
I arrived in Orchha without doing anything in particular, which seemed to be the correct way to arrive there. The road ended gently, as if unsure whether it ought to continue, and the town took over without announcement. I stood for a while under an…
I have noticed that hubris rarely announces itself. It does not arrive with a trumpet or a villain’s laugh. It comes quietly, dressed as confidence, speaking the language of experience. It says: I’ve been here before. It says: I know how this ends. And slowly,…
By the time the last light drained from the sky and the valley withdrew into its habitual quiet, the question that had accompanied me all day had grown into something that demanded a fuller honesty. I stepped back onto the verandah with the photograph in…
As the afternoon light softened, the day seemed to slow around me, and the question that had accompanied me since morning began to take on a more contemporary shape. It no longer belonged only to the photograph or to the ancient stories that had drifted…