There’s a certain obscurity about journeys that has never failed to surprise me and precisely that’s where the beauty lies. As I took the first step with my preconceived, hypocritical philosophies of life, I never knew what I was running after. Whenever asked, I always had fundas that I thought couldn’t get any clearer than they already were. After all, I am smart and that has always been the case. Although, the fun part about a smart-ass is that one day you would realize that you were probably, purely an “ass” all along.

That morning changed me, smartness began to flush, experiences drained, logic was gutted, and sense went out of the window. As I walked through the lonely roads of a moderately beautiful village, absorbing details and experiences of various interactions, I started to re-establish faith in my notions. I have loved this all my life. There was nothing new, but a single unprecedented moment pulled the plug. It was starting to rain and we decided to take shelter in a house no bigger than an office cabin. Despite some ten people crammed under one roof, they didn’t for once focus on anything but keeping us safe from the leaking roof. As the cracks in the roof began to pour water on me, I felt reality clouding my perception and the thunder tore through my heart.

In that moment, I knew it is indeed a journey. Clearly, I was lost and only beginning to be found…

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