Two Pieces, Made to Fit. Separate but Together.

Chanda Chaudhary

15 Mar 2026 — 1 min read

After several hot and still days, it's breezy this evening. As I write, I look beyond my desk to a balcony — tall plants moving gently in the breeze. The sun is setting somewhere far on the horizon. I can't see it from here. But the sky is mellow. Not the beautiful orange I would see from the beach. Just that gentle blue.

On the balcony — a sofa, a round table, and a sculpture of volcanic stone. A man and a woman leaning into each other. Two pieces, separate, but made to fit.

Dogs bark in the distance. Hariprasad Chaurasia plays Raag Bhimpalasi.

Bhimpalasi. Shringar with Karuna. The raga of viyog. Of separation.

Not grief exactly. Not joy. That in between space where you feel both at once.

It doesn't resolve. It reaches. Two notes leaning toward each other, almost arriving, never quite. The listener leans forward, waiting for the meeting the raga keeps promising and keeps deferring.

Like two pieces of volcanic stone on a balcony in Goa.

Erupted ash turned to beauty. Made to fit. Separate. Together.

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Somewhere Back There, You Put It Down

Live Your Way Into The Answer

Daksh. The Quantum Collapse.

Perfectly Alone.