Towards Kalpa

Kalpa is a village far from here. Doesn’t matter where you live.

It’s just far, as I remember Moshi telling me stories about it. She’s from North. And, I never left Pilodh, our sweet abode to the lengthy farms my father owns and works at.

Pilodh has been my home for twenty-six years now. I was born here to the richest farmer, my friends say. They left last year to the city. Something to do with the money for the temple.

I remember that my grand-mother took me to the temple once, four miles from here. And, I don’t remember a longer trip.

I dream of the green-fields we can see from the top of our huge house. It’s not that huge, really, as you’d imagine for a farmer like my father. It’s just the smallest house with the finest materials from Old Britain.

Yes, my father, unlike other farmers, lets my mother do whatever she wants to. She wants the blankets from Manchester, she’ll have it. She needs to drink water from the city, she’ll have it. I want her to be dressed like Kay Adams, she’ll have the frock, but he won’t act like Michael Corleone.

Love that movie.

And, I am told to never leave her. Something to do with her legs. Father says she can’t walk, run or jump like I do. He also told me that I have to be here with her till my last breath.

Which makes me feel like running away with Moshi to her village. She is treated finer than the temple’s statues. She gets to eat chocolates from London. She even let me eat a Toblerone all for myself once. But, Moshi can’t run. Moshi can’t even walk. And, she definitely cannot jump as I do.

I am sick of you, Moshi. Please take me to Kalpa.

Burn a candle with your….

I wrote that title. If you were wondering “Why did Shreyas do this? Why did he not complete it? Has he forfeited all the privileges of a good title? What will the real-estate on moon be like? Will Delhi survive another emperor? Why won’t Donald Trump sing karaoke?” – well, well, well you could go on and on. But seriously, what even, I got distracted and kept the title incomplete. “But you have the control over what you publish. Why would you still leave it incomplete when you could change it to better?”

Holy Macarena, hold your wits. I am, by Sergio’s will, here to tell why.

I didn’t want to write “Burn a candle with your focus!” as previously the title was planned for today. When I just came back from a distraction I could easily not be a part of, it’s a little not so easy to keep writing about focus. Is it?

So, here’s what we’ll do.

of focus out Let’s go !


With the shutdown parameters increasing, and even slightly decreasing, everywhere around the world – we see many benefits of this to our planet. But, it’s temporary. Once the economy starts to bounce back, it’s nothing but inevitable for the birds to not give us the whistles like they do now. They can’t simply take the adversities of the climate once it returns to it’s original, as changed from the original by us humans. Not to forget, our planet is still heating up whether or not you see us polluting it. And that, is how badly we have managed to keep up with the planet’s harmony.

For a quick second, just imagine all of humanity not facing the pandemic. It’s hard, and that’s why it can be imagined. So, when there is no threat of a virus but there is an urge in the leaders worldwide to shutdown the use of polluting entities – there will be rules. That’s our imagination – every government asking it’s citizens to not pollute the country on the basis of a shutdown. Many won’t follow the rules, obviously. Many are not following them even when they could die much easily in a case. They definitely won’t follow if the problem is comparatively distant. Although, it might just be very closer than we think and live like. Adding to the imagination, suppose all of us decide to stay at home not polluting the planet. Once that’s done – we could all just think our planet is healing itself. But, no. It will, by the damage already done, still keep on burning. Coming out of the imagination – that’s exactly what’s happening right now. Even when we all would have thought the slowdown could help, it is not going to help if we don’t create new rules. I believe this is the right time for every government to use the situation to bring back some kind of love to the nature in their citizens. It won’t be of much help to the situation, but it won’t probably do any harm either. It is necessary. Whether you like it or not, there are many who love listening to the birds whistling to our harmony, the wind kissing on our goals and the water helping us flow.

If there was any, the song for our planet would be the way it lives. Just. No need of the lyrics to label even the happening wonders it could do without a beat.

Our planet wants to sing, and let us clap on that.


Of laughter. There’s just no other way jokes work. They don’t function with the intention to make one cry. But, wait. Jokes don’t function either. Oh, what do I say about jokes!

Better is to lie that I won’t say anything. Instead, here’s my list of jokes on Christopher, the black-faced Indian living in Osaka of Japan.


Chris was not on top of her like his name would have suggested. It is not only hard to be that to a woman, but even smooth to do such skilled jobs in Osaka.


Chris hates being called Chris. He also comes from India, but many mistake him for Ethiopia. How could anyone stereotype the black? I wonder and correct myself for it is Japan which takes no seriousness in stereotypes.

But, Chris hates being called Chris.


Christopher taught Japanese to the Americans at Osaka. An old man learned to say “Five more jokes, and we’re done.”


Was it even remotely sad that we missed the number five without knowing?


College was never in the list of choices made by Chris when he moved to Osaka. But, so was not being called Chris.


Osaka is inviting artists from Tokyo to build the culture of western-format in their city. They ended up being the East Virginia.

And, Chris had nothing to do with it. As fate would look at it, he was still not from Ethiopia.


Nobody likes being number one. So, Chris decided to jump from the tallest building in his village and found himself on the roof of it.


He can’t move the mountains.

He still can’t fly with the birds.

He is not Chris.

Chris is a different person. He could do all of that easily even when not called in the way he’d like it.

Love from India