It was spring and I boarded the bus to Dharamshala with the stick in my hand as my only companion. For me, it was always about the sounds and the tastes and the smell of the blooming flowers. I was blind since birth and the spring was all about the rising temperature and the shadows of light and dark -that’s what my eyes could detect- a life without colours.

She came and sat beside me. There was something about her vibrations which felt heavenly, a certain energy seeping right through her skin. I could feel her curves of softness. She was like a perfume, the petals of all colours showering around her.

‘Where to?’ she asked.

‘Dharamshala. And you?’

‘Kangra.’ She responded with a giggle.

She got down at Kangra. A man took her seat.

‘Poor girl! Being blind at such a young age can be tough.’ he sighed.