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Published on August 08, 2019 18:00

August 7, 2019

The Pain By Dee Kay & Amrita

SHORT STORIES – POEMS – GUEST POSTS – TRAVELOGUES – MIDNIGHT MUSING – YOUR STORY – MORNING MOTIVATION

The Pain

By Dee Kay & Amrita

Cold eyes stare back at me through the mirror,

Shattering down the love made pillars.

A lonely tear trickles down the cheeks,

The heart was rampaged when love was at it’s peak.

A painful tug deep within,

A fragment of soul lost as pain had another win.

A part of soul stripped away, a hole left to fill,

Another sleepless night with another part of me to kill.

Insides paining, eyes raining… what else could go wrong,

Words betraying as if I’m losing the lyrics to this song.

Need that sunshine in my life, but all I see is dark,

Echoes of the inaudible memories leaving their marks

Slashed and cut everywhere.. left to bleed,

The body giving up yet the soul had one last plead.

Stand up after u fall… the struggle is real but the ends not far,

Pick your broken fragments and wear those proud scars.

Lament not cause one day you will see,

See the journey of your life’s tree.

By: Dee Kay & Amrita

READ SIMILAR POSTS :-

Was It Love?

Slice of Life

The Face I Knew!

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Published on August 07, 2019 18:06

August 3, 2019

Morning Motivation #58

SHORT STORIES – POEMS – GUEST POSTS – TRAVELOGUES – MIDNIGHT MUSING – YOUR STORY – MORNING MOTIVATION

By Dee Kay

( Follow him on Instagram – Twitter – Facebook )

“YOU MATTER”

As life takes off in unexpected terrain we often resort to doubting ourselves and not taking care of the one person that matters the most, “I”. The world isn’t going to take care of you. The people around you aren’t responsible for motivating you. None are in-charge of your happiness except YOU. So why in the name of the God are you pulling yourself down like you don’t even matter?

You, him, her, and I have been made by the same stardust while the same energy flows through us as the brightest star or the largest black-hole in the known or unknown universe. When you are hit by life then you’ve a choice, either you can stay there dwelling on your failure, licking your wounds, doubting yourself, or you can get up to fight back with a belief like no other because you known you matter.

You matter to YOURSELF.

You matter to your family.

You matter to your friends.

Because you are YOU and none can be like YOU.

NOW GO BE YOUR OWN HERO.

BE EPIC

Get in touch with the Author : – Instagram – Twitter – Facebook

READ SIMILAR POSTS :-

Morning Motivation #55

Morning Motivation #54

Morning Motivation #53

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Published on August 03, 2019 17:00

July 7, 2019

Episode 3 : The Strangers Tribe (By Roy & Dee Kay)

The Floating Thoughts brings you a seven-episode series on a trek to Kedarkantha peak in the Himalayas. Take this journey with Neil as he wanders into the lap of nature with fifteen other strangers. Witness him to create unforgettable memories and to forge everlasting bonds while he journeys towards his true calling.

To READ
EPISODE #1: click here
EPISODE #2: click here

KEDARKANTHA
a Himalayan Trek Series
Episode #3: The Strangers Tribe

PRESENTED BY ROY & DEE KAY

Often people say us to be brave enough to take the first step towards our dreams. Never have we ever questioned the fact that what if we can’t make the last few steps to our destiny. We are living on the implicit notion that once we start our journey we are going to traverse the entire length till the end. Is it really true?

I reached the Kedarkantha Camp #2 adorned with an array of bluish small tents amidst the white endless expanse of the snow desert. The tumultuous rays of the sun struggled with the hindering layers of clouds before darting onto the smooth glossy snowy surface, releasing a fragrance of the perennial shrubs that lay buried under it. The tall pine trees encircled the snow-laden flatland, secreting away a haven from the unearthly habitat of the wilderness in those snow-capped mountains.

Brushing my heart with a tinge of fear from a palette of awe, I entered the enigmatic exquisiteness of the scenic beauty that awaited to bless us with open arms. I stood at the center of the huge bowl of land and looked at the sky. I closed my eyes to feel the heat of the receding afternoon over my face while sensing the frigidness of the snow to catch up with me as it numbed my toes and fingers.

It had been over thirty hours away from civilization and into the lap of mountains, as I prepared myself to spend another night under the scintillating starry skies. With every passing multitude of moments in those many hours, I was losing bit by bit my known-self only to find a lot about my unknown-self. With every foot ascending on those mountains, I was rising from the cacophonies of my chaotic thoughts into a realm of lucid, transparent and expressive emotions. I was able to put words and meaning to those emotions that once had befuddled me with its complexities. My heart gradually accepted that my flaws were no less important than my strengths for realizing my dedication towards my commitment. On the other hand, my body acclimatized with the different weather conditions, promising to be with me throughout the journey.

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I knew that there were an additional 4500 feet steep trek to the summit yet the hiking and camping over the last one day had piqued some out of tune cords of my personality. I wanted to relish every passing second that I spend in those mountains and so as I stood at the camp with eyes closed and face towards the universe, the fresh vivid memories started to ricochet through my mind.

**** 1000 ft to Camp #1 ****

I felt the weight of my heavy rucksack as I stepped on to the muddy patch of trail, behind fifteen of my groupmates; few of whom I knew by now while the others were still under my reading radar. I read people just like I flip through the pages of the novel. Sometimes I know them before they speak while sometimes all I want to is listen to them. It’s not that I do it intentionally rather it is impulsive process and happens just like a reflex.

Maybe it is how my mind predicts if I can find acceptance in others. And to be honest, it never has predicted in my favor.

“Don’t worry. I won’t let u stumble”, Asif helped a woman as she slipped over a damp pebble while walking just ahead of me.

She had a small daypack on her, unlike our heavy backpacks. Her friend, Deepali, treaded through the track, making sure that Mittal was following her. Both of them, were in their mid-thirties and I could see the lifetime bond of friendship between them that superseded even the sisterhood. I knew Mittal came on this trek for the first time ever. Maybe it was some secret to-do-list for them. But I was mesmerized by her sheer will to keep moving on irrespective of her floundering steps.

“Neil!” someone shouted from ahead and I looked up to see Naman smiling at me from the front of the group.

“Is your rucksack too heavy or you have already given up?” he chuckled

“Watch me” I hollered from behind to which Mittal smiled at me giving me a pass past her.

Mittal, her innocent smile and soft voice, appeared as serene as the calm winds that gust through those valleys. I looked at her and kept following her. I knew my speed was way slower than I was capable of. Yet walking beside her gave me the much-needed courage to look past my need for finding a sanctuary in other’s opinions.

It’s alright if you stumble, for getting up after a fall makes the next step ahead, all worth.

**** ****

“Neil!”, I heard someone as his voice brought me back from the thoughts of this wandering soul. Then I heard a few clicks and to my surprise, Akshay had snapped a couple of candid photos of me.

“Wait for me!”, Janess came hurdling towards me while Akshay was ready with his camera to capture the two of us. I managed to smile as she came close while my thoughts were lost in the serenity of those ancient mountains.

I could feel the warmth of veiled independence in her as Janess held the lapel of my jacket while posing for the lens. Her childlike beaming eyes unlocked parts of my lost childhood within me. She seemed happy in her own world and I felt lucky to be a fleeting moment in hers.

Away from the ruckus of the society, I was developing the elemental humane connections in that seclusion ; connections that were in return leashing my tamed thoughts.

To domesticate your thoughts is to restrain your lingering remanents of childhood within you.

“Now that’s a good pic……”, Akshay said looking at the photo as Janess approached him to check his facts.

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I kept looking at them, wondering, how did we all manage to be here in this moment when just days ago we were nothing more than strangers without the knowledge of each other’s existence yet the universe found a way to collect so many souls to connect miles away from civilization.

****500 feet to Camp #1****

“You seems to be awfully quiet.”, Janess pointed out the obvious trait of an introvert.

“I take some sweet time to warm up.”, I said without trying to be funny though she laughed a bit.

“I guess you will need to start few fires in this cold weather.”, she clucked at her own joke as she walks past me.

I smiled at the silliness of my words and then the reply she gave. I might not say that I have seen a lot in my life but I do know how harsh life can be, and that is a sensible way to put it. The way she carries herself is what tells so much about her yet she never ceases to keep her world under-wraps. She only lets out how much she wants to but then I have never been a person who would get into someone’s personal space, intentionally.

“Hey! Mister…… Are you going to catch up or not?”, she said as she hurled her hand trying to make me walk a bit faster. I smiled as I picked up some pace.

‘I think she is trying to warm me up.’ I thought and this made me laugh a bit. I surely am picking up a few things on this trek.

“Why did you come on the trek?”, I asked her as she looked at me like I was supposed to know the answer to this question. I gave her a confused look so she just spread her arms and said,

“Look around you and you will know why any of us came on this trek.”

I smiled, as I knew what she meant but what was more fun was to see the way she answered it while stretching her small arms wide apart. At that moment, I could see a few cracks in the walls around her as only two types of people are called by the mountains: the broken and the healed. I guess I knew her type.

**** ****

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The unceasing silence in that cold desert was like comforting music to calm the unrest souls of the mortals. Occasionally coupled with the deep rasping tone of the ravens encircling us from above and the whooping of the soft icy breeze through us, the sounds complemented the slow rustle of the heavy branches of the centuries-old pine trees.

“Daddy! drink this lukewarm water and get some rest. You seem tired.” I watched Sahana as she handed her father the bottle with utmost sweetness in her voice and care in her eyes.

She was in her mid-twenties, yet acted like an old mature soul around her father. The affectionate connect that she had with her dad melted my heart instantly, making me miss my home.

Human relations are unique in their own ways yet identical in the core, which is only made of LOVE.

Her father, Suresh sir, became an icon of motivation the moment he stepped in our group for this trek. Our group was fortunate to find the youngest heart among us as we started our trek celebrating his 60th birthday. Humility is what I personify when I talk to him and Spirit of Steel is what I witness when I watch him walking with us.

Sahana turned towards me and gave away a smile to my nod.

I could not help to grin about the first conversation that we had had over our camp #1.

****at Camp #1****

“It is not S’o’hana. It’s S-A-H-A-N-A”, she glared at me as if I had committed a huge crime by pronouncing her name incorrectly.

I was taken aback into confusion whether to ignore or apologize to her. I resorted to a brief nod and that is what became our own language to which she flashed a forgiving smile.

We reached our first base camp, that was around 7500 feet above sea level. It wasn’t the camp that was planned as per the itinerary rather an emergency transient site to battle with the heavy snowfall. It had been snowing for last few weeks and so the original schedule had to be modified for the previous trek groups. To give you a picture of it, let me tell you that the first camp should have been at the height of 8800 feet “Juda ka Talab” which now transformed as the summit for the trek groups previous to ours. We were at the mercy of the weather in the mountains if we wanted to see the end till the summit of 12500 feet.

“Are we planning for the summit, Happy?” , Asif asked the trek leader as he entered the common tent where we were having hot lunch after the tiring three hours trek.

Asif had summited a few peaks earlier and had been quite hopeful of not returning back without kissing the peak of Kedarkantha.

“Weather in the mountains is a tricky game. As it is said Mumbai’s rain and Mountains’ weather can never be predicted.” Happy exited the conversation with his evading diplomatic yet a realistic reply.

All of us were exhausted from assembling our tents and unpacking our rucksacks. A few moments ago, we have been throwing snowballs at each other; laughing and running around; capturing the best selfies out of our cameras and cell phones; stealing away the enthralling beauty of the nature that enwrapped us.

As the powdered snow fell outside and solidified over the existing ones, the iciness of the strangeness among us melted away into the warmth of nascent friendship.

“Bro! Let’s play Mafia”, Viggi, a guy in his mid-twenties, whom I had mistaken for being a Youtuber, seeing his Go pro camera skills, proposed. All of a sudden, a wave of excitement passed through everyone’s face and a sea of confusion drowned me.

I had no clue what this Mafia game was about and felt out of place and my introversion started to crawl back from its dormancy. I watched him as he explained the rules and Sahana and Nisha jumped in right away.

“Nisha”- You will get to know more of her. For now, just remember her as “the girl with the most beautiful smile.”

Anish, her boyfriend watched her enthusiasm and childlike excitement with goofy eyes.

Once the rules were explained and the names of everyone was memorized by one another, Nisha took the lead and started the game.

I am not going to tell you what type of game MAFIA is, only that it is super fun and the best way to make friends for life out of random strangers in the mountains. If you want to know more, take a trip to the mountains with strangers.

We were so lost in the game that we could be heard shouting at the top of our voices, accusing each other of being THE MAFIA while defending us from not being the one. We didn’t even realize how soon we found a friend in the other. I was amazed to see how I unknowingly encountered the process of ecdysis from introversion to ambiversion.

Afternoon scurried into twilight and the cloudy skies burst into raindrops, metamorphosing instantly into snowflakes reaching us. We rushed out, hurriedly putting on our shoes, for the most beautiful snowfall.

It was for the first time I stood under the snow as it fell over me in the form of cold and soft white powdery crystals. The sun-kissed branches of the pine trees were painted in the hues of golden as the sunlight retreated from over them, leaving them with the thin layer of snow outlining their rims.

I looked at the far away snow-capped mountains under the shower of snow, with my arms wide apart as if to embrace the boundless beauty of nature in me so that I could securely save that experience in my memories.

“I feel your breath with every flake of snow that caresses my surface” I spoke silently to those mountains.

“In a way, we are connected now” I smiled to my thoughts.

All of a sudden, I felt a blow to my back, leaving away dampness on my jacket and soft push that almost made me slip. I turned to find Asif, Gautam and Viggi standing with big balls of smalls of snowballs in their hands and me as their poor prey. And that is how it started. The bonds of brotherhood forged in the iciness of the snow.

***** *****

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“Did you take the meds I gave you?”, Asif’s voice brought me back from the camp 1 memories to the present reality of camp 2.

I had almost forgotten about my wrist injury during our snowball battle, last evening. I nodded as he examined my injured hand with dexterity of a doctor, which he is in reality.

“The swelling is still there but it will go away with time. Just don’t exert any weight on it. Understood?”, the last word came with an extra emphasis as I smiled and agreed.

It is funny how I had to come so many feet above sea level to get a feel of what it intuits to have an elder brother or a stranger who takes care of you like an elder brother. Ever since I got hurt he has been constantly looking after me.

Maybe this is what being in a tribe is like that even the weakest is being taken into account. The Sweet Sixteen Tribe.

“Not the weakest, though just injured.”, I said to myself.

“Let’s not just stand here and act all philosophical. We should go for lunch.”, Asif said as we moved towards the dinning camp.

“Heya Bro! I saved you a seat” Gau grinned at me, indicating a place beside him; a comfy couch made of sleeping bag and thermals. I was the last one to enter and became center of attraction in an instant amidst the smile and hoots of everyone.

Until few days, before the trek, smile for me was synonymous to sarcasm, wherein at that moment I could see an entirely different meaning to it as those stranger-turned-friends faces welcomed with hearts on their sleeves.

Gautam, an engineer same as me, mauled by the burden of corporate life and burdened by hidden emotions, found his solace in words. That was just the instant connect for us. WORDS.

I stepped towards the seat, displaying him the peace sign, a universal code for brotherhood, while fading back to camp #1 memories.

***** Base Camp #1*****

The thunders accompanied the splashes from the heavens as the evening drifted into the night, making us finally call it a day. I wasn’t sure what to expect from the next day as I mentally took note of how much the temperature had taken a dip. I am sure tomorrow it would snow heavily just like a previous couple of days. Maybe we won’t even get to make the summit if this weather pattern continued and frankly, I wouldn’t even complain. I readily prepared the sleeping bag for the much-needed rest after a long day of trekking.

“Holy mother of FUCK……”, I couldn’t help screaming as I slipped inside the sleeping bag that seemed more like an ice slab than a bag meant to sleep. Nature has its way of deducing humor from the least humorous persons like me. As the words left my mouth in the silent snowy and rainy sky, it reverberated in the pauses of the thunderous snowy night.

“Ohho Brother. Great thoughts.”, I heard Gautam shout back from an adjacent tent

“and we thought he doesn’t have things to say.”, Akshay screamed.

“Except for fuck…”, a couple of more people joined in as the valley echoed with laughter. We finally ended our rage of laughter as finally, sleep took over us.

The raging night gave into a pleasant morning, enveloping the land in another dense layer of snow.

“We will leave after breakfast, OKAY?”, Mahavir shouted to make sure everyone heard him though I was pretty sure most just ignored because that’s what people do.

I hurried towards the portable washroom to get the day started only to be welcomed by the men already there.

“Look who’s here!”, Gau mocked as I shook my head, for my fellow trekkers just won’t let go of what happened last night.

“Holy mother of……..?”, Akshay joined in the mocking as he tried to make me repeat it once again.

“FUCK”, Naman and Asif completed the sentence for me. I laughed and proudly gave them a middle finger in reply.

Cuss words are the only ways how guys bond. This is one primitive tradition that men could never escape from.

“Someone has a potty mouth.”, Janess added her statement.

“At least it was better than the bear’s snore.”, Asif said making Janess embarrass a bit and turn red like an apple.

“Btw how did you sleep?”, Gau asked me as he waited for my reply only to be interrupted by Asif.

“Oye! Don’t even think about washing your face. Just wet the towel and use it like me.”, Asif shouted as all of us looked towards Anish and Nisha who had their pack full of face wash and other things.

“Who even wash their face in the wild?”, Asif said looking at the young couple.

“Only those who are not wild.”, Janess gave a quick rebuttal.

“It’s minus 20 degree and as per science it’s pretty unusual for germs to even survive.”, he paused and then continued.

“Also I am a doctor, darling and moreover I have done this too many times to not do this shit over and over again.”, he said before walking away after his drop-the-mic comment to which Anish and others just couldn’t control their laughter.

Just as Naman proudly declined to brush his teeth yet to his surprise most of us were already doing the deed. He shook his head in disapproval while we suffered the wrath of the cold water.

I never realized how such insignificant acts as washing the face in the mountains seem like a herculean task.

***** *****

“Guys! Lunch is ready. Hop on!” Jassi, the youngest member from the crew of Trek The Himalayas called on us, bringing my attention back to the warm and cozy ambiance in the tent amidst the glittering blanket of snow.

“Pass me the plate, Neil?”, Nisha asked as she and Anish sat opposite me.

Nisha and Anish. Even the name sounded heavenly matched just like their relationship. I kept thinking how by taking away the ‘A’ from ANISH and placing it behind other letters, Anish can find his NISH-A. It is as if he just needs to look behind and find her as his soulmate waiting for him or she just needs to take a step ahead and find him waiting for her since eternity.

I smiled away, handing the plate while recollecting how I unknowingly stepped into their world.

***** 1 hour to Camp #2 *****

“Can I have some water?”, Nisha asked Anish as I took a seat a bit away from them while the group took a break on our way to camp 2. I too took my bottle out as I gulped the precious liquid. Though the temperature was low still dehydration was an issue if not taken proper care.

“Hey, Neil! Want to have a bite?”, Nisha asked as she offered me a chocolate bar. I politely declined to which she smiled and I couldn’t stop myself from reciprocating. I looked at Anish who was still busy taking care of her but above all the way he looked at her showed more emotions than he would have ever expressed.

“Let’s go!”, Jassi shouted from the front. I put the cap back on my bottle as I pulled myself up.

My gaze went back towards them as he was putting the bottle back in her backpack when she started walking away. He pulled her back by holding the edge of her bag, which unbalanced her bit, but he was there to catch her.

As they say ‘Only make someone fall in love when you have the intention to catch them.’, and here I could see the intention as well as love. He caught her and she gave him a fake angry look before they both burst into laughter as they made another small memory.

***** *****

“Hey Akshay, let’s hear something out from you bag of poems…The Shayar of our group”, Anish encouraged him as we all were aware of how meaningful his words sounded, giving us the necessary boost of inspiration.

I looked around me, in that tent and found those faces to be no more strangers. I seemed to have known each one of them since the time had been ageless. I saw them beaming with happiness that bore out of pristine love. The love that once took its inception for mountains now was shared among all of us.

In that tough climatic conditions, we found resilience in our togetherness.

In that disconnect from the culture, we found our own family in the other.

In that formidable unruly terrains, we found our safe haven.

As Akshay read those words from his anthology of poems, Safarnama, I could envision the starry skies sheathing us with their twilight and the bonds among us entwining us with one another’s destiny. At least now we were in a few pages of one another’s story books, as the Tribe of Sweet Sixteen of Kedarkantha.

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शाम को घर लौटते उन चेहरों में खुशी देख रहा हूं मैं।

मूंद ली थी जो आंखें तेज़ किरण में कभी,

अब छांव में उससे ही राह तलाश रहा हूं मैं।

जब कोई पूछे मेरे बारे में तो कह देना कि सफरनामा लिख रहा हूं मैं।

To READ
EPISODE #1: click here
EPISODE #2: click here

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Published on July 07, 2019 07:10

June 30, 2019

Was it Love? By Dee Kay

SHORT STORIES – POEMS – GUEST POSTS – TRAVELOGUES – MIDNIGHT MUSING – YOUR STORY – MORNING MOTIVATION

Was it Love?
By Dee Kay

( Follow him on Instagram – Twitter – Facebook )

Was it love when I waited for your school bus just to get a glimpse of you?

Maybe it was love when I used to be lost in your eyes only to miss your words.

Was it love when you smiled at those stupid jokes of mine?

Maybe it was love when you kept calling me after our big fights.

Was it love when I held your hand walking down that lonely road?

Maybe it was love when I heard you say those three words.

Was it love when you closed your eyes as our lips touched?

Maybe it was love when I pulled you closer just for a hug.

Was it love when I just wanted to be your side forever?

Maybe it was love when you talked about a future for us.

Was it love when you decided to set yourself free of me?

Maybe it was love as I took the blame for things I did.

Was it love when I kept quiet even though I had so much to say?

Maybe it was love when I decided to set me free.

Love was what caused my fall and love is what will create my rise,

I might not know understand love but I know what it feels to be us.

Get in touch with the Author : – Instagram – Twitter – Facebook

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Published on June 30, 2019 17:09

June 9, 2019

Five Fridays by Roy & Dee Kay

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Five Fridays
PRESENTED BY ROY & DEE KAY

“Are you ready?”

“Water” I replied oblivious to her question.

She reluctantly picked up the flask and filled the glass till its brim and plonked it on the table, spilling some of the water.

I picked up the glass while being seated on the chair in front of that huge table. There were few files piled up at one of its edges. At the center, lay a wide white rectangular cardboard, fastening the white blank sheets to it. An antique wooden stem nib-dip ink pen lay over it. I have always loved that pen. The way it soaked the ink on its nib was nothing less than a romanticism, providing meaning and life to that lifeless ink by carefully etching words out of it.

“Are you ready to sign?” she repeated herself letting out every word with a tinge of softness wrapped around it.

“Don’t ask me again. I may not be able to accept my decision.” I repeated gathering the dying fragments of confidence within me.

“Okay! If that is what you want…” She opened the leather-folder that she held between her arms and placed it on the table.

I peeked at the one-pager and all that I could comprehend was just one word. REZA

**** ****

“Have you ever felt love, Reza?”

I asked watching the ends of the hair strands that defiantly dared to sway in front of her face, skimming the surface of her cheeks. She playfully pulled herself away from my embrace and stood up. The whitishness of the sand beneath us refracted a spectrum of colors in her eyes making them sparkle with happiness.

“Why do you think, I keep waiting patiently for this day of every week. My SILLY,”

She smiled and turned away to rush through the flock of seagulls that were idling over the waves that kept kissing the shores. As she ran towards them, the seagulls wiggled their rejuvenated feathers and took off, enveloping her and circling her as if she was a part of their own; as if they had been waiting for her to join them…as if she was their Princess.

“I love you MY SILLY”, I heard her as a wave swept towards me, depositing sands between my toes.

**** ****

“You need to sign at the bottom. Here” She came closer to me while bending a little and pointing out the area of the signature by her finger.

I wanted to take time reading it but the more I tried to grasp those sentences, I was losing myself to the magnanimity of the truth written over it. Memories made over a day of every week was too much to be encompassed on that single page.

**** ****

I smiled as she slowly opened her tired eyes on me.

“Heyy…My SILLY”, she tried to sit on the bed, taking the support of the headrest. I helped her with a couple of pillows behind her back.

“When did you come? What day is today? Is it Friday already.” She tried to scan around trying to get hold of the reality?

“I never left.” I murmured to myself, trying to hold the torrent of tears that brimmed my eyes.

She looked at me with the same weary smile. She struggled to extend her arm towards me. I grabbed her hand midway with mine, entwining my fingers with hers and clasping the grip with the other hand.

“I can’t go out today SILLY. I want to but I feel…so tired.” She forced those words out, laboring every word with heavy breaths.

“Will you stay with me here?”

I could only nod. Words had already surrendered in front of my feelings.

“Will you come back next Friday again? You will na??” I had always adored the tonality of her voice when she wanted to add extra affection to her words.

I could only nod while a teardrop hastily made its way over our entangled fingers. She slowly drifted back as she closed her eyes on me.

**** ****

I picked up the pen and dipped it in the small ink bottle, immersing it in the semi-viscous black fluid. The color of the ink exuded the darkness of my life amidst a brief shine of Reza’s company. I scribbled my name at the end of the page. The name that had already abandoned my identity. It was just a couple of words that related me to the world but I did not care about the world anymore. All I was concerned was who was I for her and I had eternally accepted to be her SILLY.

**** ****

“Hello, Sir.” The security guard greeted me, yanking the heavy steel gate of the campus and making an entrance for me.

I read the board as I made my way inside.

THE TRANSIT TO HEAVEN: Care Center for one and all.

That signage always drew my attention every time I walked in.

I treaded on the asphalt walkway that coiled its way like a serpentine through the well-maintained garden and ended towards the main building. Rows of palm trees walked along the pathway on both of its sides, giving a feeling of exclusivity and royalty to the pedestrian.

The lady at the reception flashed a familiar grin at me.

“Reza is waiting as usual towards the beach gate. You are late.”

“How is she?” I was curious to know.

“Don’t you make a lady wait now.” She teasingly added and my heartbeats calmed from a hue of happiness that lay underlining her voice.

I hurried towards the other end of the campus. I had been eagerly waiting to listen to her voice once again to brand me as her SILLY.

**** ****

“Thank You.” She politely smiled at me while collecting the leather-folder from me and then signaled me to follow her out of the room.

Two guys clad in white scrub hospital uniforms stood outside the room. They followed us as we walked through the empty corridor.

While walking, I tried to recall the words that a few moments ago I had struggled to comprehend out of the one-pager. There were all those letters and characters printed on it that could have painted Reza in front of my eyes or could have made me feel the warmth of her company. However, as I walked behind the lady, barefooted on the cold white tiled pathway, all that I could recollect was the betrayal of the droplets of rain on me ripping me apart.

**** ****

I waited at the bus stop while the sky thundered and poured heavily. The roads were empty and so was the stop. I was the only one out there half-drenched and half-tensed. I looked at my wristwatch. With every passing, second and with no sign of the arrival of the bus, I grew restless.

I stepped out from the bus stop and holding my small backpack over my head, I ran in the rain. I ran towards Reza’s place. I ran without any idea of how I was going to reach the stretch of so many kilometers on foot.

As I scuttled under the unforgiving downpour and through the unrelenting winds, I kept hearing her voice in my head.

“I will have only 5 weeks left, once I get in…SILLY. Promise me you will never miss those 5 Fridays”, Reza looked deep into my eyes, sincerely pleading me to do her that favor.

“I promise”, I replied kissing her forehead.

All at once I stopped midway on the road, under the ruthless rain. Like lightning, the realization hit me that today was the fifth Friday.

I screamed with all my tears as the reality dawned on me. I cried and shouted and wept hard, falling on my knees in the middle of the lonely road.

Yet all that I got in return was my screams suppressed in thunders and tears lost in the rainfall.

**** ****

We entered a small room. The walls of the chamber had a wooden texture while a small light bulb glowed at the center of the ceiling. One of the sidewalls of the room was masked with a panel of huge switchboards. A series of five small LEDs glowed in green at the top of the panel, providing a relief that everything was in place. Two operators stood near the panel, clad in green uniforms.

The lady gestured me to take the seat on the single wooden chair that was placed just below the hanging ceiling light. The two guys who had followed us took their positions at the corners of the front wall.

The operator handed off a clipboard to the lady. She stood beside me, ticking off the items on the checklist fastened to the clipboard. I just sat there on the chair, with my arms resting on the armrest and head fallen back to the backrest and stared at the front wall, wondering why a thick curtain covered the entire length and width of it.

I looked at my fingers and saw the black ink smudged between my thumb and index finger. In that blotch of blackness, I felt as if the dark eyes of Reza were staring at me, right into my soul just like the first time I had seen myself in her eyes.

**** ****

Life is incomplete without love. Love makes us hopeful. Hopefulness makes us seek for a miracle. The miracle that can only keep us hanging over an edge of life. The life that always completes the circle sooner or later.

For me, death was that miracle I attempted to delay for Reza. Reza- the girl who had been under the medical treatment of my team. I had always tried to keep myself detached from my patients. It helped me to look beyond emotions and cure them.

I was told by her former doctors that she was beyond curable yet I was hell-bent to save her and prove to my peers that I could be next to God. I had been so cynical with my capabilities until the moment I failed in front of the cycle of life. We did all that could be done before we announced that she was beyond being saved.

All that I could do in the end was to give her just 5 weeks – 5 last Fridays of her life to her.

“Hey, Doc! Will you come and meet me every week until…?” Reza stopped abruptly as the reality sunk in her.

Emotions that I had always kept at bay for all my patients were waiting to turn into a tsunami to hit me and that Tsunami turned into Reza. She was the first patient that I would be losing in my unblemished career. Maybe my failure linked my heart to that 25-year old girl.

She smiled at death with so much love in her heart stored for life while I just stood with my head hanging down.

“hey, Doc…Don’t be silly. I knew I was beyond saving. I just loved your company” I kept crying in front of her. The dam of my emotions was no more intact with my mechanical principles.

“Wait that’s is a really cute name. Hey, Silly…you are from now MY SILLY…” she branded me in an instant while I blushed within. It was so strange that death can be defied in latent crafted happiness.

“Don’t worry about me now. Just come and meet me every week?” I looked up to see how brave and hopeful she was even at the threshold of her life.

**** ****

“It’s time”, the shrill tone of the lady brought me back from my trance. I might have passed out for a few minutes in my memories.

She looked at her wristwatch and nodded her head, indicating something cryptically to the operators. To her nod, the operator pushed down the huge plunger that was fixated to the side of the switchboard panel. A whirring sound snatched me back from my marathon of memories. I craned my neck towards the noise to see that all those five green lights turned red one by one with every passing second.

The operator pulled back the plunger and again the red lights turned green all at once.

“Testing is done. Five seconds as scheduled. We are good to go Ma’am”, the operator replied to the lady.

“Get him ready”, she looked at the guy standing at the right corner of the front wall.

Nothing mattered to me without Reza around. So, I sat there completely confused about the happenings while staring aimlessly at the signboard at the top of the front wall, hanging above the thick curtain.

**** ****

I looked up to read the same signage that I had read for the last few weeks at the entrance of the campus, whenever I came to meet Reza.

THE TRANSIT TO HEAVEN: Care Center for one and all.

I have always felt a pang of discomfort whenever I read it. It was a health care unit for the people could no more be healed with medical care. It was like the last lap of the journey of life taken care in love. Maybe love was all that only left connecting us.

**** ****

The guy, clad in white scrub, came towards me and started to strap my arms to the chairs first and then my legs to the bottom of the chair with the strong leather belts. He then came behind me and pulled back my head slowly and strapped my forehead to the top rail of the backrest of the chair. He then fixed a wired pouch over my clean shaved head and fastened it around the chin with its hanging belts. He was completely mechanical and precise to his job with zero expressions or emotions on his face. Once he was done, he got back to his position.

The lady looked at her wristwatch again and then turned towards me.

“We will start now Doc Muller”, she said to me.

Neither could I nod nor could I reply. I just stayed fixated to my state and stared at her.

“Remove the curtains now” she indicated the guy standing in another corner to pull up the curtain.

I looked ahead, watching slowly as the curtain gave away the transparent glass, covering the mid-section of the wall. On the other side, few people sat on the bench to witness my fate. All of a sudden, my eyes got glued to the last bench, which was occupied by a single lady. She looked to be in her early twenties. Her hairs were roughly tied in a ponytail while one strand of it hanging in front her face, kissing the surface of her cheeks. She stared at me with her dark eyes that brimmed with tears on the edges. In a flash of a second, the truth hit me hard. I felt as if I had hit the rocky bottom of the ocean bed with the water choking my lungs. Sudden loneliness and confusion clenched my heart as I gasped for air to breathe. Yet all I could do was to stare at her with those flared eyes of mine and listen to the warden standing beside me.

“Hello ladies and gentlemen. You all are gathered here to witness the execution of Mr. Vanderwick Muller aka Doc. Muller” She addressed the small gathering on the other side of the glass.

“I am now going to read the affidavit signed by Doc. Muller in agreement to this execution.” She paused to open the leather folder that I had signed a few minutes ago.

Her words pierced my soul as the reality slowly started to settle in and at the same time, the person sitting on the last bench agitated my mind with her presence. She was none other than Reza.

How was that even possible? I kept asking myself?

“THE TRANSIT TO HEAVEN: Care Center for one and all, is a government funded and administered care center for the terminally ill mental patients who have been founded guilty of severe crimes. The list of the crimes pertaining to the admission to the care center follows Annexure 2.1.2. The definition of terminal mental illness is as per Policy 1.1.1.

The organization provides a calm and peaceful environment to the patients for the final juncture of their lives until their date of execution. All the healthcare services and the therapies for the patients are looked after by the government appointed best-in-class psychiatrists. There are round the clock officers and caretakers to look after the safety of the campus and keep the patients in-check.

The following paragraphs are in accordance with the crime committed and the mental illness confirmed for Mr. Vanderwick Muller a.k.a Doc. Muller. Age: 35, Male, Caucasian.

Doc. Muller was found guilty of several serial killings by an injection of an unknown lethal drug. The drug infamously known as “cruel-death” has not been identified to date.

He has a doctorate in microchemistry and nanoparticles and has been known to experiment for lethal medicines. The drug “cruel-death” percolates in the synaptic neurons of the victim, rendering him/her highly sensitive to the stimuli around. Doc Muller uses the high sensitive response of the victim to give them a slow painful and cruel death by experimenting his medical operations on the live body.

Doc. Muller was transferred five weeks ago to this facility and was allowed only Five Fridays of his remaining life. He was identified with a severe degree of hallucination disorder and was proclaimed terminally ill.

Dr. Reza had been assigned to look after him every Friday of the five weeks.

Doc. Muller hallucinates himself as the doctor treating Reza of her chronic disease. He assumes that he tried to cure her yet failed in his mission. He has swapped his position with Dr, Reza and for him, she has already died. He has…”

The words of the lady warden brought me to the reality of my monstrosity. The reality of the last five weeks all at once shed its veil in front of me. At the very final moments of my life, the hallucination seemed to pull back its claws from my mind and showed its cruel kindness to make me aware of the hidden demon inside me. The voice of the warden drifted away and slowly the reality of my Reza hit me hard.

“…Now Doc. Muller will be executed v.i.a death by electrocution. He has denied for any last words. Dr. Muller has a final five seconds to his life until death.”

She signaled the operator to pull the plunger.

As the plunger made its way down, the fresh flow of electrons rushed towards me and in those fleeting five seconds, all I saw was Reza sitting at the last bench staring at me with her dark eyes behind the unruly hair strand of hers that kept kissing her teary cheeks.

The sheath of my hallucination monster ripped itself apart and showed me the real happenings of those five Fridays.

5 seconds to death…First Friday

“Doc. Muller. How are you feeling today? I have brought you a photograph.”

Reza unfolded the white sheet to reveal a painting of a beach. The waves kissed the shore and a flock of seagulls danced merrily over the waves and in the skies.”

4 seconds to death…Second Friday

“Hey Doc. How are you feeling today?” Reza touched my pale arm and checked my pulse. I was struggling hard to keep up my eyes open and all I could utter was.

“You still here?”

3 seconds to death…Third Friday

“We will walk outside the campus today. Let’s go Doc. Muller!” Reza’s smile and her company kept my demons away from me.

As I walked holding her hands on the serpentine gravel path, fenced by palm trees on both sides, I couldn’t feel any more ashamed than I was of my monstrosity and heinous crimes I had committed.

I didn’t deserve such care. I didn’t deserve her sweetness. I didn’t deserve her.

2 seconds to death…Fourth Friday

“Where is Dr. Reza?” I asked the attended who brought me the afternoon meal.

He didn’t answer me and my anger turned into tormenting rage. I pushed him and ran outside the campus. All the guards rushed towards me. As I stood under the rain waiting for my Reza, I felt the blows of the batons from the security officials as they pinned me down on my knees under the rain.

It was the last Friday of my life. The last Friday with Reza but she never came.

Final Second…Fifth Friday

I looked at her across the glass for one last time as the final breath seeped out slowly and excruciatingly from between my lips.

I saw the tears in her eyes as her voice echoed inside the hollow vessel of my body.

“Hey Doc. Muller. Have you ever fallen in love?” she asked playfully.

“Why do you think, I keep waiting patiently for this day of every week” I replied

“You’re Silly. My Silly” She smiled.

Reza faded away from the back seat by scattering away like a flock of seagulls and flying upwards from the ceiling into the sky, as I closed my eyes on her for the final time.

“…He signed the affidavit, confessing his final crime of murdering Dr. Reza in cold blood. Her lifeless body was found outside the campus gates after her visit to Mr. Vandervick Muller on his third Friday.” The warden ended her one pager document.

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Published on June 09, 2019 07:50

June 4, 2019

Episode #2: Wings for Winds (By Roy & Dee Kay)

The Floating Thoughts brings you a seven-episode series on a trek to Kedarkantha peak in the Himalayas. Take this journey with Neil as he wanders into the lap of nature with fifteen other strangers. Witness him to create unforgettable memories and to forge everlasting bonds while he journeys towards his true calling.

To READ EPISODE #1: click here

KEDARKANTHA
a Himalayan Trek Series

Episode #2: Wings for Winds
PRESENTED BY ROY & DEE KAY

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“Maa…I am scared!”, I sat clutching her hand as she stood outside the train holding the steel frame of the window. B ehind her, stood my father and sister.

I was leaving my nest for the first time to complete my schooling in a different city and among unfamiliar people.

She replied with a polite smile. The smile that had greeted me into this world. The same smile that became my first ever friend. The smile that has always given a haven to my turbulent thoughts. Her smile was enough to put out the fire of doubts arising in my mind; for a brief moment.

“You’ll be just fine, son. You will soon make new friends and achieve your goals.”, she continued.

How could I tell her that I didn’t need anyone more than her?

How could I say to her that I am scared of making new friends?

How could I let her know that I fear that those new people and that new place may not accept me as I am?

It isn’t the new place that makes me want to cry rather it is leaving the sanity of my protective nest that sparks this unusual panic.

“Neil?”, she finally spoke as the green signal and the train’s whistle nudged me to the reality. I looked up at her with my doubtful eyes.

“It is difficult for any bird to flap its feather as it leaves its nest. How can it know that the sky will accept it!” She said with a relenting calmness in her tone.

I stared at her waiting for her to answer that for I had no clue, being lost to the aggravating fear of discomfort.

“It is the belief that it has those wings to rip through the strong winds and not to hide itself, makes all the fears worth to be conquered. Go Flap your wings to the scary winds…” she said with the same smile.

The train rumbled gaining speed and I watched them through the bars of the window frame as the platform slowly faded away from my sight.

**** ****

The thundering sound of the halting train echoed around the Dehradun station as we came about the destination to the foreseeing trek trip we had signed up for a few days back. I was still not sure what I was even doing here in the first place. I am not the outgoing ready-to-be-friends-with-strangers type nor am I the atypical adventurous strain of humanity.

I sluggishly dragged my feet away from the platform while Naman excitedly led the way. He was already on the phone with the coordinator of the trip and soon began to wave at someone at a distance on the other side of the road where a minibus was parked. I took a deep breath as I walked towards a whole bunch of strangers who had decided to meet the mountains; maybe for different reasons than mine.

Few of them stood wearing a heavy rucksack on their back and a backpack to their chest while others were busy clicking selfies. My attention shifted to a guy in early twenties who was busy shooting with his Go PRO while his friend accompanied him, suggesting the perfect frame for the shot.

“We have a YouTuber midst us.”, I chuckled to myself…

…and the others like me were standing up against the freezing early morning with one hand tightly locked in the jacket pocket and the other holding a hot cup of tea.

Everyone seemed to know what they were up to and were excitedly awaiting the journey to begin while I could feel my heart beating a bit faster and my stomach paving way for the anxiety to kick in any minute. I was already in the limbo of social acceptance and the norms that follow, questioning myself what I have gotten myself into this time. I wanted answers to the torrent of questions that always erupt whenever I lose my shit and at that moment the daunting reality hit me hard: “I am gonna climb mountains like seriously!”

The sound around me slowly diminished and all I could listen to was what Misha said on the day I left for the trek…

**** ****

“It’s a solo trek Misha”

She flitted through the backpacks while searching for the best one for me without even paying heed to what I was saying.

“Here check this out. This will fit everything perfectly.” She handed me a blue colored wildcraft rucksack while rushing towards the shoe section.

“Are you event listening, Misha? I don’t think this is a good plan. I mean spending a week with random strangers in an isolated place and without any network. That doesn’t sound correct.” my voice was transiting slowly towards the edge of irritation.

“You need a proper shoe that has a nice grip and doesn’t get wet.” She seemed to be lost to herself and oblivious to whatever I was saying.

“Try this” she handed me a hiking shoe and gestured me to wear them.

I took the shoe and placed it aside along with the rucksack.

“Listen to me, Misha.” I held both her hands and tried to draw her complete attention to myself.

“I think I am gonna cancel it. This is entirely a stupid idea. What the fuck I was even thinking?” I blurred it out at last.

She smiled at my childish uneasiness. Entwining her fingers in mine and clutching my palms tightly.

“Neil!” she looked in my eyes.

“Neil! It is the fears that are speaking to you. Try to listen to them for accepting the fears is the only way past them. Talk to them with your heart and not with the mind. The language of the heart cannot be understood by any code. Close your eyes and feel its beats. It will give you all the answers you seek.”

She instantly went back to shopping after giving her pep talk.

**** ****

I closed my eyes for a second and felt the iciness of the cold weather piercing my thick layer of the jacket. I could sense the adrenaline rush skimming the surface of my skin. I could listen to the fall and rise of my heart beats. I felt uneasy entering the new city but in the next second a chilly gust of breeze skimmed my face, beholding an unfamiliar yet friendly fragrance and giving away the answer in one word, that I had been unintentionally searching since the beginning of the journey.

STAY was what my heart echoed.

It was as if Misha was speaking to me through my heart… …and that brought instant tranquillity on my face.

Delaying my intention to get in the bus in the hope for an SUV option ride while evading the social connect, I ended up sitting in the last seat of the minibus. By the time the SUV arrived, it was packed with inventories for the trek and the seats in the minibus had already been occupied by others.

As I entered the bus, I met eyes with every member of the trek group. It was the most diverse group I had ever been a part of; ages stretching from the 20s to late 50s; a fine balance in gender and relationships; a duo of daughter-father, lovers, childhood friends and just-formed buddies. As I listlessly made my way to the last seat, I kept on analyzing the stories that lay hidden behind those unknown smiling faces.

Maybe it was just me trying to find some similarities in their stories with mine; either in full or in bits and pieces.

Maybe it was how I tried to fit myself in by turning deaf to my unique individuality while camouflaging beneath the acceptable norms of the group.

Why do we need to search for approval of yourselves in the eyes of others even though no one is asking you to do so?

Why can’t being just who you are is enough for yourself?

There are questions we ask ourselves to which we never really want to have the answers.

“Why am I here?”, I allowed my mind to barrage me numerous other questions as why am I on this bus traveling with strangers seeking adventure to climb a freaking mountain with snow on it? And my heart answered,

“It’s not the people, it’s never the situation, or anything else; it is just who you are.

It’s whether your wings dare to fly across the unruly winds of your thoughts.”

The mini-bus began the 10-hour journey through the serpentine roads that spiraled around the mountains towards the base camp village: Sankri. As I looked outside the window, the turbulent mind, filled with self-doubts and incongruous apprehensions vanished away. It was the air that flowed in that atmosphere had a certain magical power to instantly make us fall in love with the place. The greenery around the valley assured us that majestic moments were in store for us. The river flowing down the gorge reverted with a promise of sharing with us the exquisite experiences of a lifetime.

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“Hey! You are into photography?”, a guy same age as mine drew my attention. Sitting diagonally across me, he gave away a curious gleam to my dangling camera pouch. The way his voice squeaked, it reflected an affectionate tinge of respectfulness wrapped in the words that had the power to draw you towards his innocence and caring attitude.

I too noticed the camera on him which looked suspiciously similar to mine. He turned around and smiled as we exchanged the non-verbal confirmation of having the same make and model of the camera. He introduced himself as Akshay. This would be an easy name to remember, I had this foolish thought as we continued our conversation. Akshay had been doing photography for a couple of years now while I just borrowed this camera from Misha.

“Go capture some memories.”, Misha’s statement jumbled in my mind as I continued to have a conversation with Akshay. I talked to him a bit more before we resumed looking out of the window in search of our respective cosmic contemplation.

Sometimes all we need is just a vague erratic topic to talk about to break the ice of awkwardness. That is how a simple bond is forged that continues to transform into an unforgettable connection for the future.

***** *****

“Who knows the answer to the next question?”, the teacher asked still busy looking at the textbook.

I immediately raised my hand as I had solved this question last night. I was waiting for the teacher to see me and as his gaze began to divert from the textbook to the class, I realized that only I had my hand up. In those mini-seconds from raising my hand to the time the teacher’s gaze fell on the class I had reverted my hand. I was afraid of something. Maybe it was the fear of being wrong or maybe it was the fear of being judged but there was a fear buried deep within me.

“Yes, Neil. What’s is the answer?” I was confused about how the teacher knew it was me who raised the hand when I realized that my hand was again high up in the air. Only this time the boy sitting beside me was hosting it upward for the teacher to see me.

I glared at him for unmasking my camouflage while he just gave me a thumbs-up.

This was the start of a chapter of an endless friendship that percolated from the candidness of schooldays and has till date survived the wrath of the manipulative corporate world.

***** *****

The bus staggered to stop, drawing me back from my memories.

“This is the last trail of Yamuna river that you would witness en-route. So, you can spend some time if you want” the driver announced.

The second largest tributary of Ganga glistened under the morning sun as it glided over the rocky bed towards the vastness of its stream. Every one of us walked down to the shore that was lined non-uniformly with rows of pebbles of different shapes, sizes, and colors. Along with those stationary rocks, we stood watching the Yamuna as it slid past us, smiling with its greenish blue color while embracing in itself the colossal of the lifeline forest surrounding us and reflecting the expanse of the incessant sky.

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We all sat along the riverbank in the same small groups in which we had arrived. I perched on a rock that lay partially submerged in the river. Removing my shoes, I placed my feet in the fresh but cold water. I savored the fleeting warmness of the sun as my toes touched the surface of the river and as I moved them inside, the warmth transited to the pleasant coolness of the brisk breeze. It was as if the river was touching my soul with the enormity of the universe enveloped within itself, assuring me that it was alright if I came out of my shell…that it was okay to feel vulnerable…that it was fine if I was just me…

I looked at my reflection that swayed on its surface and noticed another image wobbling near me with the ripples of the river. I was a bit surprised to find him standing silently a few steps away from me and watching intently into his reflection. He was the most amiable person in our lot, wearing always a genuine welcoming shine on his face. A young AIIMS doctor by profession and a true wanderer turned veteran trekker by passion, Asif had already made a place for himself in the hearts of almost all the members of the group. I envied his easy-going personality but on the other hand, adored his love and inclination towards his passion.

Watching him standing silently, aloof from the group, even for a few minutes, made me realize that I was not the only one lost in the enjoying the moment while searching within me for the answer to the unknown. We all are working to make a place for ourselves so that even being a millisecond in the billion years old universe, we may be remembered for an extra second in this world; just a second longer for the person who we are after we pass away.

“Hey Asif and Neil, look here,” Akshay called us, peering through the lens of his DSLR.

“Wait for me.” Naman hobbled towards us

A perfect imperfect picture of three of us, lost in our own space, connected to each other by destiny and relishing the moment in the candid laughter. Little did I know it was the beginning of my most memorable journey and formation of true friendships. The phone vibrated as the screen came alive to the message from Dee Kay. I smiled as I read his message.

“Enjoy the trip, Bawa. And remember to come back alive.”

The bus gradually made it’s way deeper into the lap of the mountains, providing us with momentarily glimpses of the snow-clad Himalayan faraway peaks. With soulful music effusing inside the bus, our hearts founded harmony with the enigmatic beauty of the tortuous path around the mountains. I looked inside and at that moment felt an uncanny unsaid connection with everyone present inside. We were like those pearl beads of different shapes and colors that were linked to one another with a single thread, i.e. love for mountains. I smiled at my own thoughts.

***** *****

“Congrats on 2500 followers, Bawa.”

My cell phone blinked with a message from Dee Kay. It had been a year since I came across him accidentally on a WordPress blogging platform. He guided me with the nuances of the technicalities in setting up a website so that my words don’t go unheard.

I have always made friends in the most unexpected situations and this was no different. We soon started to work together, proliferating the website with stories of ours and other creative souls like us and thus The Floating Thoughts came into existence.

“Congrats to you too brother. How is the final chapter coming up for the novel?” I replied

“Fucker! Why do you think I am pushing you to go on this trek? Thank God Misha is on my side. Bring back some inspiration from mountains. We need to complete our novel.” He called me up and reminded me of my higher purpose.

“I don’t know if I am up to the right thing? I am better around my laptop than around people.” my apprehensions clouded my mind.

“SO?” he continued.

“Your words are what gives you the ability to fly while the mountain provides you with the winds on which you sail. At the end of the day, you have to do you, before you do what the world wants you to do, and trust me brother your heart knows what it needs to do. So, just follow it to the mountains and FUCKING FLY.” He shouted the last two words making me crack up.

**** ****

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The sky metamorphosed by bursting in the vermillion hues of twilight. I didn’t even realize that we were about to reach our base camp. A lot happened in that span of a few hours. From breakfast to lunch, the initial ice of alienation started to melt away, solidifying all the strangers under one purpose, irrespective of age boundaries and background limits.

I didn’t even realize when the sun went on to light up the other part of the world after bidding our side goodbye just after we reached the small guest house in the village Sankri. We all rushed out of the confinement to the open space outside. I stretched the limbs while inspecting the hotel’s structure. A typical mountain hotel with the entrance towards the road while it is running down the mountainside.

“Welcome to Trek The Himalayas.” The head trek leader greeted us as we took seats in the lobby.

“My name is Happy. Along with me are Mahavir, Ram, and Jassi. We are your team members, guides and family for the next few days.”

“and this group of adventurers will be called???” He signaled, prompting us to choose a name for the group.

“Sweet Sixteen…” one of the ladies sitting in the front spoke with a tinge of hesitation. Everybody burst into laughter, finally agreeing in unison that it was the best name for us.

Sweet Sixteen was just perfect. We were sixteen members, many of us novice to a Himalayan trek experience. We had our own reasons to come search for answers in the wilderness. A bit of uncertainty, a chunk of madness and a lot of confusion are what that make the sixteen sweeter and we all had that within us. Fears have their own sense of bringing people together. Alone you are sacred but together the group can stand brave.

“You mind if I join you all” a girl from the group called us from behind as I made for an evening stroll with Akshay, Asif, and Naman through the muddy lanes of the village. She introduced herself with a bright smile: Janess. I don’t know why but there was a hint of sadness in her smile while the positivity around her aura hid it well.

The dark night gathered its blackness and spread it across the scenery and in that darkness, the whole village came to life. The distance flickering lights of those small towns in the heart of the mountain resembled nothing but the night sky above with all its glorious stars. There was a strange calmness to the whole surrounding as I stared at the light, miles apart, in the dark galaxy of the mountain. Five of us slowly made our way under the diffusive dusk, languidly taking each step. Those slow steps gave room for a variety of conversations, bringing us together amidst the mystical ambiance of the mountains. I wonder how much history have those centuries-old pile of rocks encapsulated within themselves while they unknowingly unfolded our hidden stories without even trying.

The writer within me got some inspiration as the overflowing emotions finally found a dam to restrict them. As I lay on the bed after having a hot dinner in the frigid cold night, I began to contemplate whether it is worth all this discomfort and pain. This is still a hotel room while the trek would be taking us over those hard rocky mountains. I don’t know whether I am going to accommodate the loss of leisure and the pain of sleeping in a bag for the next 5 days. I am not even in my best shape and it’s been months since I last went on a run or hit the gym. With that thought in my mind, I let sleep take over me.

***** *****

“Dreams keep our sanity intact. Without dreams, there is no purpose. Devoid of purpose, you lose your story.”

I heard the office janitor reading aloud from a crumpled piece of paper as I passed by him.

The words seemed familiar. I stopped and looked at him.

He handed me the paper saying in his elderly slurry voice,

“You forgot to add fears. Fears help us keep your story safe. Without fears you won’t put up a fight for your stories for the stories are what define the real you.”

“you write well Master Neil. I have read all your torn pieces and crumpled pages. Never lose faith in your story. God bless you son.” He left me in shock and surprise.

How well he knew me…better than I ever knew myself.

Maybe sometimes you need others to tell you who you are.

Maybe sometimes your uniqueness stays mundane until iterated out loud.

***** *****

I woke up from the flashes of positive memories only to find myself in an empty room. There were things that I need to sort out while there were things that need me to get sorted out first. I shook my head and rushed through the morning routine to make my way to the lobby of the guest house.

Standing in the balcony of the guest house that protruded from the main lobby, I stood to witness the magnanimity of the formidable snow-capped Himalayas in front of me. They looked down at me with the purity of the whitish snow and the fortitude of the golden rays of the sun.

And I stared at them with stubbornness to conquer my fears and firmness to live my story as I questioned my own fear for the first time.

Have you ever stared right into the core of your fears and felt an innate sense of satisfaction?

Have you ever dared to write the story that you have always lived in your dreams?

Have you ever fluttered your impulsive wings for ascending towards the wayward winds?

Well, I am going to and trust me it is the best moment you can ever experience.

I looked at those great mountain ranges one more time as my gaze turned into stares.

“I will see you at the summit”, I whispered as my lips curled up to a decisive smile to those snow-capped mountains while a burst of cold gusts caressed my skin.

“Neil…bro…let’s go… it’s time” Asif called from the exit of the hotel.

I picked up my rucksack, wore my shades and with confidence to meet the promise turned away from the balcony only to face the mountains in the end.

Asif, Akshay, Naman, and Janess smiled at me as I joined them…

…and thus, our Trek began…

[image error]

इस छोटी सी ज़िन्दगी का मतलब समाज रहा हूं मैं।

जिस ज़िन्दगी में लम्हे तो है कम,

पर उन लम्हों में खुशहाली कैद कर रहा हूं मैं।
जब कोई पूछे मेरे बारे में तोह कह देना की

सफरनामा लिख रहा हूँ मैं।

to be continued…

Episode-end Poetry taken from the anthology of Safarnama by Akshay Deora

To READ EPISODE #1: click here

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THE UNTOLD SCRIBBLES – Short Stories – Poetry – Guest Submissions – Travelogues – Motivational

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Published on June 04, 2019 06:20

May 30, 2019

Dear Mansie: a Journey beyond Failures

A nobody’s foolhardy attempts for getting through the world’s toughest MBA entrance exam: GMAT, made him meet someone, who was soon going to change his life.
Witness his entire journey beyond failures as he pens down his tribute to the one person who gave his life a purpose – Mansie.

DEAR MANSIE
a Journey beyond Failures

Dear Mansie,

“Everyone tells you to dream…rarely you find someone who helps you to live one!”

That someone for me is you.

This is not a review. It can’t never become one since you can’t judge the beacon that brings you out from your dungeon of failures. However, if you wish to read a small tale of a lost dreamer and his hope for light, you are most welcome. So, let’s begin.

4 times CAT failure. (Indian MBA entrance exam)

2 times GMAT failure.

Working in the largest steel company in India.

An Engineer! (So cliché :P)

I was almost at the verge of giving up, accepting that I was too old for CAT and that GMAT was no different cup of tea when one of my friends mentioned about Mansie and her 100% strike rate in mentoring the aspirants.

Amidst my marathon of failures, I reached out to one person whose reputation preceded her name and whose words were known to restore faith in one’s own abilities. Mansie Dewan!

“Neil! Send me your CV,” Mansie said over the call.

“You just need a 700+” she mailed after going through my CV.

(GMAT is an exam that scores you out of 800)

I laughed within me assuring myself that my profile was no good for my dreams and 700+ was out of the question. Yet her sheer determination in me on just reading those handfuls of points in the resume, made me think how less I knew myself and how strong her expectations were. I decided for one last try and surprisingly found my foot on the other side of that threshold of 700+. 710 it was!

It was just a small step to qualify to take on that journey of pains, hopes, struggle and sleepless nights, for which I had been ready for so long. Moreover, I had Mansie to walk beside me along the way.

The trust in her was deeper than the extent a blind guy trusts his senses and more solemn than a devotee worships his God.

We started to work on THE STORY- everyone needs a story for an MBA and you need to be very thorough with it. The thoroughness can only come when you are sincere about your dreams and passionate about your goal. Mansie pushes you to take the deepest dive in your own self such that it makes you learn so many things about yourself that you never knew until that moment. You slowly start to rediscover yourself and along with that your MBA stories start to take shape. She listens to you just like a silent friend, subtly directing you to the right path. Within a few weeks, you would be amazed to learn so many new ignored facts about yourself. The facts that are going to lay the foundation to the MBA applications, coupled with her advice, which were just like an oasis in the vastness of the parched desert.

I had so many questions about everything. I was bogged down with the vastness of the application process. I felt lost in how to walk ahead but Mansie was there ALWAYS & EVERY MOMENT. She never will hand hold or spoon feed you but that is the beauty of her mentorship. You get clarity in every little detail that you mention in that application. You write your ingenious story and that is more than enough to get you an interview call.

I still cannot forget how we did an extensive reviews night and day, continuously edits for the application questions, resume and cover letters until it was nothing other than just perfect. My first draft always seemed to be the best one to me until she edited and made me write it all again. I wrote close to 10 drafts for every essay and believe me the final draft was something you won’t even ever dream to write all by yourself. She does that. She brings out the best version of you – one that you never knew.

Keep talking to her. Follow religiously what she asks of you. Believe in yourself. And Wait for the magic to unfold.

Long hours of discussions. Continuous reminders. Incessant Reviews. Unending Edits. Sleepless nights of Self-search. Survival over Black-Coffee. Mock Preparations. Interview Questions. The journey was non-stop. Night and Day became alike. There was no more confusion or doubts. ONLY a PERSEVERING, CONSISTENT & PASSIONATE MENTOR and her MENTEE!

Every hardship and struggle for that one dream was worth when she is there to prevent you from fall and at the same time push you to rise above your limits.

The application process ended and it was time for results. I knew that we had done the best of what I could have ever done and no matter what the outcome is, I had already found the way to myself. Yet who doesn’t want good results? So let’s talk about numbers…

Michigan State University- Broad College of Business: 100% Scholarship

Ohio State University – Fisher College of Business: 100% Scholarship + 20hrs GA.

So, that was my small cliché story that would be always special for me. Don’t think much if your reading this and deciding what to do. Trust when I say this since I know this from a huge network of friends, she is the only MBA consultant who thinks of her student always first and foremost. So, just take a leap of faith for her. It will take you towards the sky.

With Love, Regards & Smiles

Thanks, Ma’am. I will forever be in debt for your mentorship.

Neil

PS: Ravi Sir, my story will stay incomplete without mentioning you.

He is one true motivator. Just talk to him, he will pull you out from the darkest pit of your lows and fill you with so much light, hope and courage that no matter even if the entire world is against you, you are going to take them to head on with fathomless confidence and formidable belief in yourself. Thanks, Sir.

If you are lost like Neil and want someone to mentor you in your endeavor for GMAT, you know that Mansie is just a call away. She is the best admissions coach for MBA out there.
Find the links to her website below
Click for Website

Click for Other Testimonials
Emails:

mansie@mansiedewan.com

mansie@gmail.com

Read more stories:-

Kedarkantha : A Himalayan Trek Series

IN CASE YOU WISH TO READ MORE ARTICLES FROM THE FLOATING THOUGHTS

THE UNTOLD SCRIBBLES – Short Stories – Poetry – Guest Submissions – Travelogues – Motivational

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If you wish to share your stories, please submit your writings here

or mail us at dfloatingthoughts@gmail.com

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Published on May 30, 2019 09:40

May 22, 2019

Episode #1: The IDIOTIC Passion (By Roy & Dee Kay)

The Floating Thoughts brings you a seven-episode series on a trek to Kedarkantha peak in the Himalayas. Take this journey with Neil as he wanders into the lap of nature with fifteen other strangers. Witness him to create unforgettable memories and to forge everlasting bonds while he journeys towards his true calling.

KEDARKANTHA
a Himalayan Trek Series

Episode #1: The IDIOTIC Passion
PRESENTED BY ROY & DEE KAY

“Sir Coffee!” the lady attendant placed a cup of sizzling black coffee on my desk.

I always like my coffee to be steaming such that the moment I sip it, I could feel a pang of burning sensation on the tip of my tongue. The momentarily stinging pain makes me feel human in the mechanically driven corporate life. It makes me aware that I also have a sensation other than the eternal resentment towards the unending race for churning money. It gives me pleasure to punish myself for investing the major chunk of my day in securing someone else’s future while mine peeks at me helplessly from the screen of my cell phone wallpaper. The wallpaper that had found its home on the screen of my mobile for the last couple of years.

***** *****

“Neil, why do you never change your wallpaper?” picking up my cellphone, Misha launched her usual question at me, that somehow sounded more of a sarcastic remark.

“I am too lazy to do that. Plus, who cares? Right!” I tried to hide my real feelings behind the sips of my hot coffee.

“Or! You are too scared to accept the change?” Misha winked at me before getting back to munching her chocolate Brownie.

She had been in my life for a decade now and sometimes her one-liners tell me a lot about myself than what I could ever confront about me.

“Btw Neil! I love the wallpaper.” She flashed her captivating smile giving me a room to breathe and calm my senses. She knew perfectly how sometimes being too introspective can turn you into a pessimist.

***** *****

I sipped the black coffee, smiling to myself as I retreated to the present world from my memories. Unlocking my mobile phone, I stared at that wallpaper while Misha’s voice echoed in my heart. Indeed, I was afraid of change. It is easy to wander within the known territories of the mind but is quite intimidating to meander in the unknown realms of the heart. When you accept what your heart seeks, you become an instrument of change, deluging in a plethora of new emotions and experiences. It is like waking up from the ignorant black and white world to the colorful kaleidoscope of capabilities. Misha knew how to transit through these changes, transforming into a better person at each rung. She knew how to listen to her heart and follow it. Only if I could have learned it from her, that wallpaper would have been a reality for me.

Yet all I did was to shelter my frustration under a safe refuge of sips of hot coffee while the bold letters written on the wallpaper tantalized me, reminding and provoking me with the memories to seek the acceptance.

***** *****

“Neil!”

“NEIL!”

I felt a nudge on my shoulder as the person sitting beside me woke me up from my stupor only to make me realize the yells of the person calling me. The bald brawny man presiding the meeting howled my name for the third time. All of a sudden, I was the point of focus of my boss and of all the members present in the meeting.

“Neil! What is your opinion?” He knew perfectly that I was not listening as I could decipher a sly smirk on his face.

I started to grapple with the sheets in front of me to get a look at what was being discussed. My stammers turned worse. I was caught point blank in the middle of a mass-humiliation. I was lost as always.

“Son!” watching me struggle, he calmly uttered gathering all the softness in his voice.

“I have no use of your fuckin body but only that mind. So, get it the fuck back from wherever it is wandering”

I could only nod to the condescending tone of the boss and gawking eyes of my colleagues.

How could I tell them that with every passing day I get a bit more lost…

lost towards my passion or lost from reality.

With my head hanging down, I kept gazing at the cell phone screen and those bold letters written on the wallpaper absorbed my embarrassment within itself with utmost care…I looked at it as the letters refracted from the screen through a teardrop.

“When Lost, Turn to Mountains”

***** *****

Though the corporate humdrum has rendered my life mundane in entirety, at the same time it has provided me a comfortable corner of my existence. A corner wherein there is a surplus of money and limitless work to keep myself deviated from my “IDIOTIC” passion. Yep IDITIOC is what it was termed when I suggested it to my colleagues.

Have you ever looked at your reflection in the mirror to stare deep into your own eyes?

Well, some fool in his self-help book had mentioned it as one of the ways to peek into one’s soul. When I read it for the first time, I found it extremely silly and in the next second found myself giving it a try. It was so strange that in that foolish act of staring in my eyes, I found the courage to accept the need to mention about my passion to my peers.

***** *****

In the smoke-filled hall of the weekend house party, alcohol was the perfect replacement of water or so to say the best and only ingredient of courage.

Taking a long drag of the hookah, I fell back on the couch and closed my eyes. All I could see was the whitishness of the snow and feel the iciness of the wind pacifying my agitated mind. The cacophony of the complicated questions seemed to slowly fade away as I inhaled the cool gusts within me. It was sheer peace. And all I needed was peace to find me.

“Neil! Your turn”, one of my colleagues, high on inebriation of the nicotine passed the hose of the hookah towards me. It was my turn to tell the group what I wanted to do in my life in the game of “I want…”

Till that moment, I had already heard some of them about their wants…

some for a lavish life, some for a beautiful wife, some for a loving boyfriend, some were confused between Merc and Benz and some were just stuck with Fucks.

I became the center of attention for the moment.

“Neil…come on…speak up your heart!”

I didn’t know what got into me. I had never accepted it until then not even in front of Misha and yet there I was high on my passions.

“I want to become one hell of a Story-Teller. I want to wander in the wilderness. I want to bring stories never ever imagined or heard or felt. I will make everyone feel the emotions through my words….and…” I dragged my slurpy intoxicated voice and ended with…

“and…I will start by finding first MY-story…in the Mountains…”

There was a pin drop silence for a moment. Everyone gazed at me with their flared eyes. It was as if time had been paused for a moment. Then in the next instant, everyone burst with an uncontrolled feat of laughter.

“What will you do of this job?” someone from the back of the group asked

“True…these just sound good in Instagram stories.”

“Such an Idiotic passion.” one of the girls rolled her eyes while giving her expert review.

and thus, my passion got branded as The Idiotic Passion that night.

***** *****

The last sip of my hot-turned-cold coffee drew me back to my office cubicle. I looked at that wallpaper on my cell phone before getting back to my work. A huge snow-capped peak glistened under the bright scintillating sun, making me feel frigidness of the snow as well as the heat of the scorching sun, both at the same time. Imaging myself as standing at the summit, I closed my eyes for few seconds to let the cool windy gusts laden with sweltering snow particles to caress my face. It was just like living my entrapped desire in a vivid memory when a spree of the laughter surmounting my Idiotic passion hauled me back to my desk, marring my passion as Idiotic and taking me back into my cage.

Was it really IDIOTIC?

Maybe a little or maybe a lot. I know to accept it would be to accept my flaws but who can be comfortable in talking about their weaknesses. I have always averted from looking at them. To be honest, I have shut the door on them as I fear accepting their presence would shred my small comfortable bubble world into pieces. But it is also true that closing eyes on my insecurities won’t make them disappear. And maybe that is the reason, I went for this mountain wallpaper for the last couple of years. Staring at the words written on it, made me keep myself linked to a figment of an imaginary world where I didn’t fear accepting my flaws.

What are my flaws?

None different than what a normal person has. Fear of breaking the wheel of predetermined life. Scared of living on my terms based on what makes me happy. For the starters, it’s not money rather peace.

Yes! Peace for my raging soul that screams at me to follow my passion. It is so considerate that even if I am not able to follow it, it just asks me to spare a few moments to at least think about it; a few minutes of full attention to it. Yet I am either too occupied with my present work projects or too tired post-work hours that the only thing I prefer doing is taking a nap and procrastinating my attention for my passion for some later day.

…and THAT DAY till date never came.

I should be ashamed of writing this but I don’t. Maybe there is no shame for a naked person who stands in the crowd of all nudes.

I don’t demean those who love being workaholic or for those who like the normal usual routine of life. I have the rather utmost respect for them for their passion resides in the societal conventional mode of living. They are aware of it and have been gladly following it.

For a person like me who dares to accept their non-synchronicity from the aforementioned life, a general stigma is being passed on by one and all. The branding is that everyone nowadays wants to be a photographer, traveler or blogger. For us, passion has become the most misused word and we throw it at everyone to sound like a cool dude. In reality, I neither have any intention to be that cool person nor have any reason to be one.

I just wish to find myself. I just want to be not lost anymore. I just desire to find peace and calmness at heart and mountains were the antidote to that handed to me by none other than Misha. She has been the epicenter to this typhoon.

**** ****

“Mountains have universally been depicted as a place where you get to find the real person who has been hidden not only from the entire world but also from yourself.” Misha flipped through the pages of a traveling magazine before handing it to me.

She liked to have her tryst in her institute libraries and most often than not sneaked me in. Such dates, unfortunately, turned into pedagogy classes for me. For that reason, I preferred our dates at my place, devoid of any interfering knowledge pieces.

“This is some bullshit travel blogger’s fantasies.” I casually brushed through it with no intention to even read a word form of it.

“Shut up Neil and read it. You will thank me later” she winked at me with her smile.

Damn that smile and the wink. It was the worst recipe for my heart. I pulled her closer while her lips left me with fleeting craving caresses.

**** ****

I read that article the following night, around two years ago, and never even anticipated then, how the coming years would get consumed in the tornado of my inner struggle because of it. It was as if you get a taste of your true identity and then you don’t remain the same anymore since the cravings keep on increasing with an unquenchable thirst.

The article featured how a young mountaineer amidst the hardship in the journey to the summit, was able to find answers to all the questions that his unsettled heart had been troubled with. I was too much drawn to the explicit narration that made me take an imaginary journey along with him. In that ten minutes read of a five-page write-up, I sensed an innate uncanny calmness within myself; something that I had never experienced in the last few years. And so, the mountains popped up as my wallpaper and since then I have been planning every day to gather the courage to go on a trek. Yet the day ends with me only extending it for some time later; just alike to my nature that kept deferring to follow my passions for later.

I have never been to the mountains. Never been on a trek. I did few a college treks but those were more of a pleasure fun group trips focused more towards picnic on the top of a grassy plateau that was not even close to a small hilltop. Moreover, with increasing responsibilities at the workplace, I have been completely inconsistent with my fitness regime and nutritional diets. Seems these are heavy excuses for not going on a trek.

Excuses are our best fake friends. We can’t give them up since in their absence we are again as usual left with no option but to look at our real self in the mirror. That means accepting our flaws and feeling unimportant and insignificant in the human race. So, the cycle repeats and we stick to excuses stronger than ever.

My empty coffee cup looked at me from the desk. My mobile home screen mocked at me once again. My workstation called me as a demanding girlfriend.

Only my heart said to me “It’s okay to let go.”

And as a matter of fact, the universe did present me with an opportunity a week back.

**** *****

Plant shutdown.

General Shift followed by Night Shift.

Coffee cups marathon.

Midnight.

I was looking after the work at the shop floor when my phone vibrated. I was expecting a follow-up message from my superior about the job-progress in the plant. I listlessly glanced on the message and in the next instant, I was wide awake.

Naman : I have booked a Himalayan Trek.

Wanna join man.

A SOLO TREK?

Naman – the bizarre coincidental friend of mine. I admired his carefree and recluse attitude of enjoying the moment on the go and his fascinations for treks.

Naman: Take your time. U “Thoughtful-Soul”

PS: I’ve already book’d flights.

So, no excuses 4 me & more for u.

C ya bro.

My heart screamed to grab the chance while the mind went as usual on an analytical mode.

The first hurdle is always the worst one and so I could only reply in…

Me: Will let you know buddy.

.**** *****

I was lost in my conundrum confounded with confusions of my recollections when the cell phone started ringing in my hand. I got startled for a moment.

It was from the same person. Naman.

Oh! How so convenient that I got the call, in the midst of my breakdown.

I wanted to cut the call and go back to my cozy safe nest. I knew what was in store for me if I were to pick it up. Yet my body seemed to unfollow my mind and go for the command of the heart and so I clicked the green telephone icon.

“Hey, Buddy! What’s up man…still drooling in your inability to make a decision?” Naman knew exactly what I had been up to since the last week he mentioned about accompanying him on a 5-day trek to the Himalayas.

It was going to be a solo trek with only him being the person I would know in a group of fourteen other strangers. It was the perfect opportunity to do what I had been planning for such a long time with no fear of being judged of my actions and thoughts.

“Hey, Naman. Yes, Yes I will let you know soon buddy?” I stammered all the way trying hard to hide my indecisive thoughts in my voice.

“Dude. Today is the last date to register. So, do yourself a favor and join me.” he wasn’t ready to give up or was he just let me know how pity he felt for me.

I was silent for a moment listening to the opportunity that was closing its window so soon on me. I wanted to say YES but feared to leave my predictable routined-life. I wanted to go yet the excuses shackled me.

In that couple of second’s silence, I felt a sudden strong anger at myself and at my self-pity state. If I was going to be so feeble to take a stand for what I loved to do, how would I stand for my loved ones? No decision is right or wrong. It’s our ability to take that decision in the first place that is more important. The right part would leave us beautiful memories and the wrong part would leave us with invaluable learnings.

The smiles of Misha filled my heart. The motivating spirit of Naman rekindled my passion. The gawking faces of my colleagues and peers gave me more reason to go for it.

I looked at my wallpaper again and saw a guy screaming from the summit of the mountain and at that moment, I could only say YES.

YES, to THE IDIOTIC PASSION.

YES, to THE MOUNTAINS

[image error]

कुछ खास लम्हों को याद करके आगे बढ़ रहा हूँ मैं|

शहर के उस कर्कश शोर से दूर भागते हुए,

वादियों के मधुर स्वर को तलाश रहा हूँ मैं|
जब कोई पूछे मेरे बारे में तोह कह देना की
सफरनामा लिख रहा हूँ मैं|

to be continued…

Episode-end Poetry taken from the anthology of Safarnama by Akshay Deora

Read more stories:-