I am in Hotel Tirupati in Itahari, where I can get scant wi-fi signal in the room. All equipment/amenities that require power are dead, except for the rickety fan above me. There is a fridge, but it is woefully empty save a bottle of water, about which I have been cautioned by restaurant staff downstairs: the bottle in the fridge costs Rs 40, whereas a bottle of water is Rs 25 at the restaurant.

There is a chaudhavin ka chaand in the sky. New leaves are growing in the trees n the mountains around Dharan, while gulmohor trees sughtones, and tried hidig them in the folds of a mattress, because I thtand in a fiery blaze all around the city. I was knocked senseless by shock when I realized that the colors on the trees reminded me of--what?--the pouch of Tang we'd been given by a man ho lived in a room in our house. his was at least 20 years ago. There had been an enormous hailstorm that afternoon. I have never since seen hailstones that size. I had collected many a handful of the icy stones, mostly because I had reasoned to myself that I could keep the ice longer if I could keep in the folds of a couple of mattresses.

I am very tired, all of a sudden...