A quiet rain traces silver lines across tender teak leaves in a forest clearing just beyond the Western Ghats, each drop a soft syllable in the hush before sunrise. A low thunder murmurs far to the east, like the earth inhaling after a night of wandering monsoon clouds. Occasional bubbles rise in a hidden hollow where water gathers, and a lone wind bell chimes once, twice, as if marking the moment the sky relents. Gentle and minimal, this scene cradles the rhythm of drowsy breathing and the prom