And as I walk, crushing the dead fragile leaves, under my feet, I stop after a few brisk steps. It was and is never easy to jump out of a small window and track the faded footsteps on dry grass, but that exactly is how I will find my way back home.
I have travelled all over the world and have even been to other planets and galaxies; I am not sure about other universe though. I have seen more than the eyes could bear the weight of. I have walked naked feet on the desert soil in scorching heat and have known the heat of coldness in the glaciers. I have been to the tropical forests and sang songs of longing with the birds; I have been to the mountains and had a long deep conversation with a Yeti. And I know all this will sound to you a figment of my imagination, should I be worried about this, about your take on my life? I know a lot about people and so I know the footprints on the grass are not solely mine, they are layers and layers, labyrinth of steps, of kids and women, men and apes. They have piled over time and I cannot see mine through them. I walked this path months ago, each month lasting a year where every day is a century. The footprints have faded and are losing themselves to the rays of the sun, fainter every week. I have looked down or perhaps straight to the earth from the sun, I have travelled to and fro with the swiftness of the wind, and seen the path across the world to be crossroads of veins in our body, under our transparent skin. This doesn’t make me wiser. I started my journey to never return unless I found questions to answers that have never been asked and I travelled back to the point where I started. Does this make me wise? I started this journey with pockets full of questions and chest full of answers and when I stood back to where I started I was empty handed and then I started travelling again, this time to the other planets and galaxies. I had followed on the lead of people who had been crazy to undertake a journey like mine. I had taken the roads they had taken and discovered, I ate from the trees they had eaten and drank from rivers they had quenched their thirst. I even followed the star to the house of the answer and meet three tired but excited gentlemen en route. I saw what they had come to see and experienced what they had not even dreamed of. And I walked on. I travelled that road and route several times giving no heed to any warnings and prophecies. I have done all that has been done before and all that will be done after me. But I always came back to that one place where I had started. I met aliens and made friends with robots, I met Laika and her other mongrel friends. I learned the language of the Martians and tried to understand their problems, thinking they were looking for things that I had the answer of and they had the question I sought. They looked at me as if bitten by a snake, they looked pale and were wet with perspiration, and they couldn’t believe I was looking for what they had long before given up as unanswered. And so, I left them to themselves and walked on. Do you wish to ask me anything? Ask and I will tell you all about it. I met a beautiful young woman, sitting by a river and from afar it seemed the river was her tears crawling on her cheeks and falling drop by drop into the pool of tears, causing ripples, which eventually turned into a river. She must have been crying for a long time. She must have found something to shed her tears for or was it a loss? But what struck me as unusual was not her tears but the smile on her face, was it a smile of loss or was it freedom? And when I came to where she was sitting I found out that the river was indeed her tears. I called out to her and asked her the road I was seeking because she looked to be an inhabitant of the place, the forest. She guided me and talked to me, she showed me the road and asked me the question and all throughout she was crying. She was crying a river. Crying tears of joy and ecstasy; tears of pain and wonder. Shaded by her own hair, she looked beautiful, more so now. This was precisely the first and the only time I had been in love. I walked away from her. My eyes filled with tears.
And a smile was trudging on my lips and wet grass under my feet. I walked on, raining tears from my eyes. I was coming back home.
Kashiv unlocked the door of his house, went inside his room, closed the window and the diary from where thoughts were escaping.
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