Written by Apoorv Katiyar


All experiences etch on a pinwheel rotating into the wind of aurora, leading to a new morning which at its own pace concludes, with birds returning home at gloam, and follows a rhythmic tune of nature’s, sometime silent, sometimes breaking into loud snores at night.
And it begins again. Everyday.

Somewhere in this drop of time, you find an ocean of timeless experience.

And what is this pinwheel?

To me, it is an abstract idea that encompasses us individually, and which stays as a layer of invisible  function till we exist. And then there’s a larger pinwheel too, but for you and me, ageless. In it, rotate our pinwheels.

Experiences hold both the tangible streams of everyday life, and the intangible meaning of life unfolding it’s crumpled face, sometimes untangling itself from the mesh of thoughts slumbering in terra incognita of the mind, as times passes by.

A wave of emotion surges as the hand of experience grazes your body, like when a baby curls its fingers around it’s parent’s or When you are kissing wide, lost in the moment. When the luminescence of the moonlight turns your skin blue, or when you are flooding the air with your voice. The flutter of a butterfly, and your longing eyes rummaging the starry sky.

These are all, tangible experiences. Our primary sensory organs induce a flavor of emotion.

And then there are intangible ones, somewhere transitioning between the tangible.

But it’s fleeting, and you try to clasp it’s wings. All you get is an afterglow of it’s existence. A memory.

You keep playing it back, but it’s never the same. Every time, something’s missing. You don’t know what it is, but the incompleteness of it troubles you.

Like the distance you feel, when a loved one departs.

Once filled to the brim, the dreary floor of parched lake blistered into fragments of drought. A strange yearn to move every cell in your body, to go see the end of your time.


But somewhere, it all coalesces. Every speck of experience comes together into a fabric that you wear. An invisible fabric. You keep stitching it, as you move forward, drop by drop colouring it in shades unique to you.


The question remains however, why does the pinwheel of experience exist?

It could be a way the universe speaks to us, or maybe all experiences exist for their own sake.


About the author

Apoorv Katiyar


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