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At one point there were so many butterflies

we were afraid of stepping on one. Imagine

the boot’s sudden crush on the thin chintz of

a wing, losing of a life at such a small scale

only the grain of the quartzite could hear it.

My friend tells me how the Aravallis were 

born. The crystalline stone – an old witness

to a continent crumpling like paper to make our

home – now listening, intently, to the smallest

account of what makes all our living possible,

each day, without knowing, astray, a crushing

of something beautiful, then a turning away.

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Akhil Katyal is a professor of English literature, a poet and a translator who works out of Delhi.