Dear reader, I do not have adequate words to explain the last two months. I wrote the previous post to commemorate Diwali, the festival of lights. Along came the universe to blow the lamps out, leaving life in twilight. If you think I'm being histrionic, don't read any further. It's been a little over 60 days since my father died suddenly, likely a victim of Covid's long-term effects. Over 10 months his lungs deteriorated swiftly and silently, culminating in a 23-hour stay in the ICU, a phone call to me from the hospital at 3.23am, a 5-minute drive during which I prayed he was okay and the one infinite moment of seeing him in bed even as the doctor broke the news of a massive cardiac arrest. A sequence of numbers marking time; a diadem of black pearls weighing my head down since 3.30am on the morning of 29th October 2022. My father was human and god knows he had his faults. But it was impossible to remain passive when facing the crowd at the cremation; a sea of humanit