A lady in saffron poles through a drowsed lake: a man stands still, counting fish that dart in and out of the submerged forest. If the fish are birds, where then are their nests? A man in a shikara sells saffron from his village: he recites their past, conjures purple blooms quivering beneath an acerbic winter sun. Here, you can taste the sunlight, he offers, amber-strands nested inside his ice-scarred palms. The oar is a chenar leaf: depending on its mood, it lances through or caresses the water. In the distance, a lone chenar tree already grieving the leaves it will lose in a yet unseen autumn.
Priyanka Sacheti is a writer based in Bangalore, India. Her literary work has appeared in journals such as The Cabinet of Heed, Popshot, The Brown Orient, Barren, Berfrois, and The Lunchticket. An avid phone-photographer, she explores the intersection of her writing and photography at Instagram: @antalasofallthatisee. She tweets @priyankasacheti.