In the stream I could see his heart flowing, touching a multitude of other hearts that went numb either by colliding or by choosing to stay so. Sameer cared too much for the skies that went wild with rage sometimes, shackling the scudding clouds, sending spears of lightning aiming to fracture the earth. He listened to the ache of the aging Banyan too. He said “When I die I want to be close to a water body. I want the susurration of the stream to keep me alive, which I know is a way of claiming a part of something that is moving and yet holding breath, the air in the breath, and the life in the breath.” I didn’t quite understand him but I knew someday I would. In a world that’s divided between good and bad, I want to keep faith, hold my tongue from moving too much, and reclaim my thoughts that go astray. The day was nearing. I counted every little blade of grass as if that were a testimony to …