The third trilogy from F.S. Enjoy story number one as we bring you the next one, next week.

Photography: Kevin Sreenath 

THE RIGHT TRACK

It was a dream of his to find the explorer’s paradise. It was all he lived for. Working for 30 years in a company he had no interest in was to earn the interest offered by the bank for the huge sum he deposited at the end of the month. Travelling back and forth on trains, rickshaws and cycles, all he wanted to find was that paradise that wasn't listed on the internet. A computer technician then, and all the technical skill he needed now was the ability to photoshop. 

The station was busy with its regular schedule of late trains and homeless men. As he sat back on the cold steel chair whose only intention was to make banking suffer, the one thing that caught his attention were the two class of people. One: Willing to work in anyway possible by lending out magazines, a hot cup of chai and magazines; two: trying to find a job, desperately failing everyday and making them beg for a day’s meal. Of all the stations and all the stands, this sight was familiar. And with that familiarity came a worry of him foreseeing his future. Would that be him? Was the plan he has been carrying since the day he started dreaming a fatal one? 

The distant blare of the horn was now clear. As the crowd shuffled to the edge of the platform, where the wind from the moving bogeys would sweep them away, only one person stood back. A boy with freckles on his cheek and shabby hair. A boy with fear in his eyes. A regular boy.

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“You are not going to make it in the world alone!” Papa’s voice was clear and loud to Dhruv. Yet, he held onto the hope of escaping. 

“Just two weeks Papa! I just need a break from all these!” he yelled, showing him the binder folders with notes and interview sheets. 

“You are not going anywhere young man,” the military commander in him woke. “You are staying put, and you are going for the interview.”

“But the interview is two months away! I have been busting off day and night for months. I swear I am going alone; no friends, nothing. Just two weeks. Please!

All that awaited him was the sound of the lock turning as his father stepped out of the room. The commander has spoken. Now it was the duty of the soldier to break the rules for his own sake. 

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Three trains have come and passed, but he and the boy stayed put. Awkward glances were shared in between, but none of them spoke. It was the number one rule we were all taught: never speak to strangers. The fifty year old and the twenty five year old abided to the rules, until the little soldier in him became a rebel. 

Dhruv walked to the chair the man in a brown torso and black t-shirt was sitting on. Two empty seats beside him, and Dhruv chose the one in the end, maintaining a distance. 

“Hello,” the man spoke up. He replied in a nod. “Where are you off to?” 

“I don’t know.”

“Thought so, you don’t seem to have enough baggage and you seemed terrified. I am Karthik, by the way.”

“Dhruv,” he said as he nodded, acknowledging his words. “Where are you off to?” 

“In search of the woods. I am starting in Assam.”

“You could just search in google,” Dhruv said, taking out his phone. “I could do that for…”

“Don’t bother, I am looking for one that is not listed in there. An explorer’s paradise is what I’d like to call it.”

“You sound like you travel a lot.”

“All that you can explore is all that is there. All that is there is for you to explore, to wander, to create.” 

“Whose words?” Dhruv asked, impressed. 

“A wanderer’s,” Karthik smiled. “I have told you my part of story. Let me hear yours!”

 “It’s the story of every twenty year old’s. The world is ready for us to conquer it, but our swords are yet to be sharpened. I needed a break from all the knots, so I took off from home to… travel, I guess.” 

“You sound like an explorer. A traveller without a destination,” Karthik began. “Conquer them with thoughts, not weapons.”

“But my Papa believes in weapons. He used to be in the army.” 

“True army man,” Karthik smiled. “What you see when you travel, it is something that has not been scripted in any textbooks. It has to be felt, not taught. Yet, we are bound by shackles of hopes. Break them when you can. I spent all my age earning so that I could travel, and here I am sitting next to a dreamer, waiting for my next train to come. And this all happened because I kept a reality check. Although, I don’t blame you for what you are doing now. Everyone deserves a break.” 

Dhruv let the words sink in, as he saw the next train approaching. 

“That’s my ride,” Karthik stood up. “And since you don’t have a destination, you can come with me if you don’t mind travelling with a stranger.”

Dhruv stood up with him, checking his wallet with little money and no luggage. “Are you sure?” 

“Why not? An explorer’s paradise is to be explored by many, not just one. We could be the beginners!” 

“And maybe, a twenty five year old and a fifty year old can make history,” Dhruv spoke up. 

“This is why I like young people. They can find spark in the rain.”