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Aarav entered the world screaming, startled by its brightness. The hospital smelled of disinfectant and beginnings; outside, life hurried on, buses honked, sunlight spilt over concrete, and people scurried with unreadable urgency.

Packing is a labyrinth of memories. The old, dusty boxes are dangerous nostalgia traps. You pick up one forgotten trinket, and you’re stuck.

Note to Self

AUG 15, 2025

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In conversation with Anil Kumar