The insistent rapping echoed through the quiet morning. I frowned, setting aside my half-eaten dosa. Who could that be? I wasn't expecting anyone. Peeking through the peephole revealed a tall figure, their back to the door, a worn backpack slung over their shoulder. Curiosity piqued, I unlatched the door.
As I pulled it open, the stranger turned, and my breath hitched. Their face was a roadmap of sun-kissed lines, eyes the color of a stormy sea, holding a gaze that seemed to pierce right through me. A faint, melodic hum emanated from them, almost like a distant song.
"Namaste," they said, their voice a low rumble, tinged with an unfamiliar accent. "Forgive my intrusion, but I seem to have lost my way. I was hoping you might offer some direction."
Lost? In our quiet little lane in Bengaluru? It seemed unlikely. Yet, there was an undeniable sincerity in their eyes.
"Of course," I replied, stepping aside. "Come in. Perhaps I can offer you some water while you tell me where you're trying to go."
They stepped inside, their movements surprisingly graceful for their size. The small living room suddenly felt filled with an unspoken energy. They placed their backpack gently on the floor and looked around with an almost childlike wonder, their gaze lingering on the small Ganesh statue on the bookshelf.
"This is a beautiful home," they murmured, their fingers tracing the air near the statue. "There is a strong sense of peace here."
I felt a warmth spread through me at their words. "Thank you," I said. "Now, where were you headed?"
The stranger turned back to me, a slight smile playing on their lips. "That is... a longer story than I have time for at the moment. But perhaps you could simply point me towards the nearest road that leads north?"
North? That could be anywhere. "Do you have a particular destination in mind?" I pressed gently.
Their eyes held mine for a moment longer, and I felt an odd sensation, a fleeting sense of something ancient and vast. Then, the moment passed.
"Just north," they repeated, their smile widening slightly. "The open road calls."
I hesitated. There was something unusual about this person, a feeling I couldn't quite place. Yet, their request was simple enough.
"Alright," I said finally. "If you go straight down this lane and turn left at the main road, that will take you north. It's quite a walk, though."
"Walk?" They chuckled, a deep, resonant sound. "For me, it is but a blink."
Before I could ask what they meant, their gaze fell upon the plate of half-eaten dosa on the table. "Forgive my boldness," they said, their eyes twinkling, "but that smells divine. Might I trouble you for a small piece?"
I was taken aback but a smile tugged at my lips. "Of course. Please."
They took a piece, their movements deliberate, and closed their eyes as they savored it. A look of pure contentment spread across their face.
"Ah," they sighed. "The simple joys. Thank you."
They stood up, their backpack already slung over their shoulder. "Thank you for your kindness, friend. May your path be filled with light."
And just as suddenly as they had appeared, they were gone. I watched from the doorway as they walked down the lane, their figure receding into the morning mist. There was something ethereal about their departure, a feeling that I had encountered something… more.
I went back inside, the lingering scent of their unfamiliar presence still in the air. The half-eaten dosa suddenly tasted different, imbued with a touch of the extraordinary. Who was that stranger? And why did I feel like a page in my own story had just been turned? The day, I knew, would no longer be ordinary.
The lingering scent wasn't unpleasant, a subtle mix of sandalwood and something wild, like rain on dry earth. I found myself standing at the open doorway for a long moment, the cool morning air a stark contrast to the sudden warmth that stranger had brought. The mist, which had been thin, now seemed to swirl with a newfound mystery.
Shaking my head slightly, I closed the door. The mundane reality of the half-eaten dosa on the table seemed jarring after the otherworldly encounter. I picked up the plate, the familiar aroma now intertwined with the phantom fragrance of sandalwood. Every bite felt different, as if infused with the stranger's quiet contentment.
The rest of the day unfolded with an unusual shimmer. Ordinary tasks felt imbued with a subtle significance. The honking of the auto-rickshaws outside seemed less jarring, the chatter of the neighbors softer. It was as if a veil had been lifted, revealing a layer of quiet wonder beneath the surface of my familiar Bengaluru neighborhood.
I found myself glancing towards the lane more often than usual, half-expecting the tall figure with the worn backpack to reappear. Each time a stranger approached, my heart would give a little flutter before settling back into a gentle thrum of curiosity.
That evening, as the sky deepened into hues of indigo and the scent of jasmine drifted through the open window, I sat on my balcony, a cup of chai cooling in my hands. The encounter replayed in my mind – the stormy eyes, the melodic hum, the casual mention of a "blink" for a long walk. It felt less like a chance meeting and more like a fleeting visit from a realm just beyond my understanding.
Could he have been a wandering sadhu, his presence radiating a spiritual energy I had subconsciously picked up on? Or perhaps someone… else? The thought sent a shiver of both unease and exhilaration down my spine.
The Ganesh statue on my bookshelf, the one the stranger had paused to admire, seemed to gleam a little brighter in the twilight. I walked over and touched its smooth, cool surface. It had always been a comforting presence, a symbol of auspicious beginnings. Now, it felt like a silent witness to something extraordinary.
Days turned into weeks. The memory of the stranger remained vivid, a peculiar bookmark in the otherwise predictable chapters of my life. I never saw him again, nor did anyone in the neighborhood recall seeing such a person. It was as if he had materialized out of the mist and vanished back into it, leaving behind only a lingering sense of wonder and a slightly altered perception of the world.
Sometimes, when the morning mist hung heavy in the air, or when a faint, unfamiliar scent drifted on the breeze, I would find myself pausing, listening for a distant, melodic hum. And in those quiet moments, I would remember the stranger at my door and the day the ordinary had brushed against the extraordinary, leaving an indelible mark on my soul. The page had indeed been turned, and I found myself reading the subsequent chapters with a newfound sense of anticipation for the unexpected wonders that might still lie ahead.
React
