My veins run deep beneath the sacred earth where the spring of Ksheer Bhawani breathes—a spring not of water alone, but of memory, of silence that sings, of longing that never dies   I have seen centuries bend like reeds in the wind. I have stood tall through suns that blistered the earth, through snows that fell like the quiet sorrow of unspoken partings. My limbs have embraced the changing winds of time.