The satellites leave bright streaks that spoil our long exposures, and they transmit in bands that swamp our faint cosmic signals. Here at GMRT, we listen to the faint whispers of the universe, and these are like loudspeakers placed in our ears. My own work, stitching together data from quiet hours, becomes harder. It reminds me of trying to stitch a fine *chikan* pattern on my old machine when the electricity flickers—the thread breaks, and the beauty is lost.
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