The fan stops first. Then the hum of the fridge. Then, for a second, the whole building seems to inhale.

I keep a candle and a paperback by the bed now. This summer it was Shonkhonil Karagar — short enough to finish before the power returns, sad enough to keep me awake after it does.

There is something about reading in poor light that slows you down. You hold the page closer. You read a sentence twice. You notice.

I am not romanticising the heat. But I will admit that some of my best reading this year happened in the dark.