To be unmoored is to have lost the rope, not the shore. It describes a state of suspension, of being adrift not necessarily from place, but from the ground beneath one's certainty of place. Unmooring is not the same as being lost; it is the state of moving without anchor, carrying what you can.

What do we carry when the ground shifts? Subodh Gupta's 'A Fistful of Sky' at NMACC is a portrait of this condition: the migrant's bicycle weighted with everything that must travel, the 'bartan' that outlasts the kitchen it came from, memory preserved precisely because return was not possible.

Rahul Pandita's novel 'Our Friends in Good Houses' tracks a man assembling the echo of a lost Kashmir courtyard in a rented Delhi flat, while Adivasi women in Dandakaranya sit on a highway as if it were still the forest floor. O'Donnell + Tuomey's newly opened but long-gestated V&A East in Stratford poses the question architecturally, probing how a building feels "lived-in" before it has been lived in.

This week, we ask: when the rope is cut, what do we reach for instead?