Karoonjhar as Kin
Some beings speak softly.
The mountain is one of them.
So is the woman walking with water.
So is the bird circling at dawn.
This page is not a timeline. It’s a moment of noticing -
when stone begins to stir,
when the air shifts,
when water remembers its way down.
I never come here to study the mountain.
I come to in its embrace.
And Like an ancestral memory, it reveals itself to me.
Slowly. In fragments.
Never on command.
Sensory Encounters
Unlike the sharp, glacial awakenings of the northern ranges, here the mountain wakes slowly, warmly. There is a scent of soaked red soil, if the sky has gifted rain the night before. The air carries petrichor and memory. Birds slice across the amber sky like forgotten letters returning to their sender. They have always known how to read this mountain. As light grazes the ridges, the rock seems to stretch, eyelids parting after a long sleep. Trees lean slightly, as if listening. A koel calls. The day begins not just for people, but for ants, bees, stones, roots; for everything that breathes or dreams or simply is.
Movement of Water
Unlike the sharp, glacial awakenings of the northern ranges, here the mountain wakes slowly, warmly. There's a scent of soaked red soil, if the sky has gifted rain the night before. The air carries petrichor and memory. Birds slice across the amber sky like forgotten letters returning to their sender. They have always known how to read this mountain.
As light grazes the ridges, the rock seems to stretch, eyelids parting after a long sleep. Trees lean slightly, as if listening. A koel calls. The day begins not just for people, but for ants, bees, stones, roots.
Movement of Water
Unlike the sharp, glacial awakenings of the northern ranges, here the mountain wakes slowly, warmly. There's a scent of soaked red soil, if the sky has gifted rain the night before. The air carries petrichor and memory. Birds slice across the amber sky like forgotten letters returning to their sender. They have always known how to read this mountain.
As light grazes the ridges, the rock seems to stretch, eyelids parting after a long sleep. Trees lean slightly, as if listening. A koel calls. The day begins not just for people, but for ants, bees, stones, roots.
