Up there was a man with a heavy heart and deep down there, the city was all lit up.
Hariji’s voice just pierced straight into the soul and started healing as I kept wondering about all that had happened to me over the short span out there.
I remembered having those divine panipuris,puchkas as they call it, on the streets of Balasore on the eve of Friday after an exhausting train journey with the heat and humidity showing no mercy. All those little talks we had and those cherishable memories flashed infront of me in haste. The man who reached the city on friday, with all the burden of his thoughts had discovered pristine shores of trust by the dawn on Monday. I had seen people from different cultures and regions all my life. But never had I experienced full fledged innocent love all around me without demanding anything in return. For all that it took to reach there ,I had gained much more. Ofcourse the cherishable includes the roshagulla, the music of tajdarjunaid (dastaan) that I got introduced to on the terrace, psych, baaraat, miVScsk finals in the mantap, wedding and what not…
As the pilot conquered the clouds, I promised with my eyes closed that I would return, don’t know when, but I will.
Follow the White Rabbit 