Well I would prefer smoking other things, but tobacco works well! And a railway toilet is perfect. You look out the window and the world goes by and you look down that hole and the tracks fly past… This trains has a vibe which changes with each compartment. The transition from one coach to another is like moving to another dimension. I walked around multiple times, just couldn’t trace which dimension you were sitting in. But then I was able to retrace myself and here we are.

I mistook your identity initially. You struck me as someone who would be writing a research paper but then no perceptions are definitive and I know more about you now.

I liked the beach. there was so much energy. And the vibes! These were months well spent. I am heading to a village in Himachal now. That is where an old, oddly tall, gaunt man like me can finally be restful and write in peace. Of course I would stop by Dharamshala briefly, but not too long. That place is for you, who has just begun the journey, to take lessons from that space. May it teach you good and may you continue being a good learner.

I want to meet a person there though. Well he was a little kid when he was smuggled from Tibet to safer havens and I was given a task to teach him English. A young kid, full of energy! He didn’t want to learn English yet. No no. He wanted to play and run and be in the nature. Well as it happened, we used to live in a huge farm in the hills. So I got a plastic bat and a tennis ball. I would hit the ball hard and he would run around trying to find it in the wilderness. And discovering the nature while at it. In the meantime I would lay back and catch a nice siesta.

Well, that kid is a young monk now. I want to buy a plastic bat and a tennis ball in Dharamshala and gift it to him. And tell him that I can still hit the ball farther than he can! Ha ha.

In the journey you will find

moments that wield

insuperable might.

Assiduous planning,

hand of friendship or

blood thirsty fight.

Which path would you decide?

Apposite or the opposite,

what measure will suffice?

Carpe Diem.

Carpe Momentum.

They scream.

Losing yourself

to the moment

is ok too,

whispers the wind.


Can you obviate 

the mercurial madness, contracted on a declivity, or atleast vouchsafe an exit from the field, when the salvo hits the halcyon masses, bang, bang, paste? Even an acolyte could festinate a pro rata aid languid as he may be. So why wouldn’t he? As the behemoth races down, your inchmeal ways and reticent face causes loss of faith. And yet it is known, the curfew in the temple, which the priests gloss over, unaware of the tempestuous god who wielding his musket, is on the precipice of a Risorgimento. Or is it all a whistling wind? 



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