“When I die, keep my remains atop a mountain. When the wind rises, the silence breaks. When the clouds cover, the lights disappear. If you could, place me alongside the woman who loved me all my life, including times I didn’t deserve. When the wind rises, we’d whisper, nobody can hear us. When the clouds cover, we'd melt, nobody can see us.”

In the tranquil borderlands of Indo-Burma, Underneath a downpour, soaked to the core, My body shivering, as I ride my beloved bicycle, On that narrow, winding path of pebbles and stones.

With a bag on my shoulder, I halt by a steep trench, Taking out a samosa, I savor its taste with ease, Raindrops falling on my glasses, obscuring my view, Yet, I find solace in this freezing shower, my eyes hardly see.

My shoes, all wet, squelch with each step I take, My teeth chatter uncontrollably in this unimaginable cold, Ears resonate with the hushed whispers of the wind, Oh, that moment felt like my life's maiden adventure.

In the midst of it all, I felt an intangible connection, A journey of truth, an authentic escapade into my soul.