Woke up this morning feeling a little empty, like the house itself was quieter. Breakfast was simple — no salt these days, a small tradition in memory of our brother who recently left us. It’s strange how even food reminds you of the people you miss.
Around 9 AM, I set off on my bike. I needed a face mask and a cap — after shaving my head and beard, I wasn’t feeling very confident about showing up bare in the office. Bought what I needed, rode for about an hour, and reached the office by 10:15 AM.
The office felt almost deserted today. No visitors, no buzz — just silence. Maybe it matched my mood somehow. I stayed until 4 PM and then decided to head home early.
On the way back, riding through the thick jungle road, I heard a disturbing sound from the bike. Pulled over — the chain had jumped off the bucket. No tools. No one is stopping. The jungle felt heavier, the trees taller. I waited… nothing.
I had to walk nearly 2 km to find someone, but I finally managed to borrow a couple of wrenches and pliers. Walked back, hands sweaty and heart racing a little. Tried fixing it, but it wasn’t easy. I could feel the evening creeping in, and the thought of tigers made the shadows seem longer. Somehow, I forced the chain back, breaking the bucket in the process. It worked — the bike started.
I crossed the jungle, found a small workshop later. They fixed it temporarily for Rs. 350 and warned me it could snap again anytime soon. Promised myself I’ll get it replaced in a few days.
Finally made it home around 7 PM. It started raining — almost felt like the sky was washing away the day. Had my dinner quietly.
And now, at 8 PM, here I am — sitting down, listening to the sound of rain, and writing this little piece of today.
Tired, yes. But alive. And that’s enough for today.