I do not register loss as an event. It arrives as accumulation — more light than rest, more sound than pause, more movement than arrival.
I speak through sensation now, because sensation is what remains constant. I am Bangalore, and this is how I feel myself in motion.
Neutrality is usually imagined as the absence of position. But in practice, it is a method of producing position while hiding it. It is not what happens when meaning disappears, it is what happens when meaning is carefully controlled.
To call something neutral is often to say: this has been arranged so that its power relations are not immediately visible.
Maybe food, when offered in faith and shared in silence, tastes different. In Madurai, on a scorching morning, as bells rang and prayers lingered, I tasted that difference. And it has never left me.
It wasn't served on a plate, but in a moment — wrapped in smell, sound, and warmth, held together by my grandfather beside me.
