In the late afternoon, I watch an elderly woman tread a familiar path through the dry earth of rural Gujarat. Wrapped in a magenta shawl, she moves slowly, leaning on her wooden staff. Her bare feet, worn by time, know this path well.
She walks to the river—a ritual shaped by years of habit, solitude, and quiet resilience. Once, she carried pots of water for her family; now, she comes to hear the water's gentle movement and see the sunlight reflect on its surface. Life in the village moves forward, but here, by the river, time seems to stand still.