MD SHAQUIB REZA

Whispers of the Infinite Sea

Pooja leaned against a tarnished railing aboard a ferry, watching ocean waves curl into themselves. Close to her chest, she held a pewter urn containing her mother's cremated remains. She breathed deeply, the taste of brine caking her tongue like damp ash. The midday sun reflected in droplets that quavered on the balusters, then trickled down like little rivulets, only to reappear from the periodic spray of waves breaking against the prow. Other ferry-goers chattered around her, though Pooja was only vaguely aware of them. Her thoughts were on the last conversation she had with her mother. All this time out on the ocean, chasing fish —