Four years. That’s how long it took me to reach a place so deceptively close. A place everyone says demands a “calling.” Well, I guess mine was more of a last-minute shout. A sudden demand, a hesitant yes, and just like that—tickets booked, bags thrown together for a whirlwind 24-hour escape.
"Just do it." That became the mantra of the day.
I wandered over rocky trails, waded into bushes, and carved paths where none existed. The vast openness stretched ahead, the birds sang their songs, and laughter danced between words of past, present, and future dreams. I trespassed into quiet moments of solitude, flirted with fleeting thoughts, knowing full well the end. I stole seconds to etch memories, drank to remember, not to forget.
Nothing more was asked for, and nothing more was given.
And now, every Sankranti, this day will resurface—a memory as vivid as a kite soaring against a winter sky, bringing with it that soft, knowing smile.
"Just do it." That became the mantra of the day.
I wandered over rocky trails, waded into bushes, and carved paths where none existed. The vast openness stretched ahead, the birds sang their songs, and laughter danced between words of past, present, and future dreams. I trespassed into quiet moments of solitude, flirted with fleeting thoughts, knowing full well the end. I stole seconds to etch memories, drank to remember, not to forget.
Nothing more was asked for, and nothing more was given.
And now, every Sankranti, this day will resurface—a memory as vivid as a kite soaring against a winter sky, bringing with it that soft, knowing smile.
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