The sky reflects in the water at my feet. The tap keeps leaking, and we keep fixing it. The plumber is either bad at what he does or too clever. At this moment, there are two skies. One above my head, another under my feet. It’s nothing like looking into a mirror but I squat and see myself in the water. I trace my face, distorting the view, spreading it across. I hear the wind blowing, like it cares about nothing but is trying hard to get noticed. My hands and feet are wet, dirty. I have no idea what’s going on.
Bharath Upendra considers himself a regular Joe who unapologetically talks about the usual and obvious. Writing to him is like an uninvited guest who still hasn’t left and to whom he’s gotten used to anyway.
You can find more of his writing at Bharath’s Banter where he speaks his mind and writes his heart.
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