Inside me sits a courtroom: Maya enchants, Karma records, Dharma whispers, Kaal reminds. I am the witness, learning what it means to choose.

I’m trying to leave without illusion: dry wood, clear eyes, and no borrowed tears—just enough, and nothing performed.

Ghalib says we travelled all this way for one length of cloth. Jaun Elia says the funeral is just paperwork. A third voice makes tea and answers emails. All three are me.

What if our demons are guardians wearing scary masks? Embracing our shadows can lead to a deeper understanding of ourselves and others.









