'On Healing' by Sonia Dogra

The whirring of the ceiling fan will lull her to sleep. It always does. Focus, says the guru. He points to the part between the eyebrows. Glabella, she tells him, showing off her language skills. Focus, he repeats, unimpressed. She closes her eyes. Heat from the warm floor percolates upwards. Seething fires engulf her. She does not move. She mustn’t.

They’ve been working on her mind, the guru and she. Her body waiting for an embrace. A huge patch sits on the back of her head, like the hub of the fan above. She remembers the tut-tutting of aunties and uncles, colleagues and friends; the condolences that have failed to end. Losing a tuft of her lovely hair, was enough to make her despair. And then, the guru, came to her rescue.

Focus, he always said.

The gentle humming of the fan continues. It drowns the tut-tutting away. The glabella appears black and blue, sometimes red. The patch doesn’t heal. She does.