Banri&Kynsai

We met on a foggy morning trek to Nongriat — Banri leading a group of botany students, Kynsai quietly sketching orchids on the trail. He offered her his rain jacket when the mist turned to drizzle; she showed him a hornbill nesting in the canopy above.

Weekends became long walks through pine forests and cups of red tea at Police Bazar. We learned each other's hill songs — hers in Khasi, his in Mizo — and found that the melodies fit together like woven threads.

On a clear December day at Ward's Lake, with the water mirroring the sky, Kynsai asked Banri to walk every misty trail with him. She said yes before the hornbill called twice.