Now at 3:42 AM on the 13th of April 2026, while travelling from Pune to Bangalore, while being sick and light-headed, a sudden whispering strength entered me and encourageed me to write. That singular strength that subsided my illness, the terrible condition of the journey, the sudden jerks and bumps of the bus, or the loud snoring of the fellow traveller beside me.
I asked myself, “about what I should write ?”
Definitely not about my ill health, not about the worst travelling conditions, not about the thunderous night sky, the stars, the lone roads, the dazzling lights, the dark mountains, or the rushing trees.
There is something far greater than all these — something above beauty, above drama, above suffering...Something that filled me with pure joy even to think about it , a deep self-confession, a prayer, a momentary relief so complete that the present moment itself became weightless....
But how can one write about the most beautiful thing without breaking its celestial vision?
One simply can't, so all I can do is offer this poem....the closest my trembling hand could type... (After spending two hours i realised that maybe I might edit this poem once I regain my strengths ..... or maybe not..)
In the fevered dark the bus lurches forward,
rain streaking hard across the windows,
something more stronger and more powerful came to me.
I stand as guardian of your solitude,
and you stand as guardian of mine —
miles apart day and night.
I carry your heart with me in this rattling dark,
It is the deepest secret nobody knows —
the root of the root, the bud of the bud.
I rest my forehead on the cool glass,
watching the rain blur the lights,
and the quiet inside me says
one day this long night will be carrying me back to you soon
The most beautiful thing,
I have known in a long time.
This weary, rain-soaked journey
suddenly feels like the shortest path home.
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