The stairs of Gangar Ghat
don’t rise or fall—
they pause.

Between sky and river,
they hold the weight of in-betweens:
a prayer not yet spoken,
a goodbye that lingered too long,
a hope folded into quiet hands.

Each stone is worn
not by time alone,
but by return—
by those who came back
to the same place,
carrying different hearts.

And the river—
it never asks questions.
It just listens,
as everything
slowly learns to let go.