• The diary left at Fateh Safari Page 122

    Each person dreams and thoughts are equally valuable to the other no matter of the individual animations of life

    – Yogesh

    and then he began singing Neil Diamond’s Song Sung Blue… he used to sing this with his sister.

    He is the diary I wish to read, so much of wisdom, born out of his pain and stories of his life. The protagonist is sitting on a stool outside a stop, I watch from afar, he is talking to another man in pain, telling him, his ears will be there for him and arms and legs too, if need be, as they wait for others to drink their tea, in front of Fateh Sagar lake.

    Washroom ka entry ticket 10 Rs/-

    Retreat को लेकर काफी उत्साहित था। सालों से देखा सपना आज पूरा हुआ । हरे पहाड़ निला आसमान, टिमटिमाते तारे

    मन को शांत करे दिये, सारे गम, पारिवारिक चिंता से मुक्त, कुछ पल खुद लिए जिया।

    कुछ अजनबी दोस्त

    अब अपने से लगने लगे

    सब ने बहोत ख्याल रखा कुछ के सामने दिल की बाते खुल कर बोल पाया, काफी अच्छा महसूस किया।

    अच्छी यादों के साथ, अच्छे लोगो के साथ याद रहेंगा शौर्य, स्मित, योगेश जी, चिराग भाई, भविता, प्रिया, निराली…

    – मितेश

    I felt pure admiration for him. We are now talking daily on video call, for 15 minutes, as he reads and I read with him. He never asked for any accommodation, he just went with the flow, and swam in foreign waters, the river is English, he is a Hindi and Bhojpuri.

    A trip which started with a sleepy night, where I’m questioning another wild decision I took, putting myself in between 15 strangers (alas, I had my hoodie, but still!!) for the reasons, which are, like a lot of times unknown to me.

    To the endless talking with Ruchi about our books and walking with Shweta on the paths we don’t know (as always), to listening to Neil Diamond at the end of the night while almost everyone has fallen asleep except me and Yogesh ji and Shweta.

    To the fight between hunger and swimming pool and finally getting both. And sleeping at every possible place, since, well since who cares. And the endless music conversations with Janvi (not done yet, just paused) and the Ghibli conversation with Ruchi (what can I say, you can’t really stop talking about Ghibli and Jab We Met) and the witty mini talks with Bhavita. And the bade log wale conversations with Nirali, and the intellectual conversations with Priya, and the music of Bohemian Rhapsody swaying everyone in the traveller of course.

    I’m pretty sure I won’t remember a lot of this, and I may have forgotten some it, but I do remember I was not as nervous as the night the trip began and I was happy and sad, and sweet, and more complete, and free.

    Thanks for the cute, and free and LOUD and happy memories. There could be a million places we could all be at, and yet here we were, in a pretty night with quiet, some cold air and starry night, together. I thank you all for choosing this night the way you chose.

    – Prashant

    He looks really good, blushing, with a sunflower in his hand.

    The time together with such inspirational people in such a beautiful setting is deeply powerful. All of you have already made a lasting impact on me. This journey together has opened my mind, heart and spirit to new levels.

    It is those blissful small moments where you could be brave, you could hide in solitude, you could smile, you could cry, you can be whoever you want to be…

    Filled with gratitude of having experience such a moment with each one of you…

    For all that has been,

    Thank you.

    For all that is to come,


    – Dag Hammarskjold

    – Janvi

    We cried together as Luka Chupi played, thank you.


    Each one of you with thriving growing blooming against all odds and maybe with all oddballs that life throws… different temperaments, different emotions, different lines of thoughts yet all sharing the same grit and strength of spine, holding on to the spines of books whenever shook. Gratitude and all things warm and fuzzy to each one of you for creating everlasting memories.

    When I will be old and wrinkled and crippled, I will tell tales of Wildflowers.

    – Nirali

    “Instead of going to the chestnut tree, Colonel Aureliano Buendía also went to the street door and mingled with the bystanders who, were watching the parade. He saw a woman dressed in gold sitting on the head of an elephant. He saw a sad dromedary. He saw a bear dressed like a Dutch girl keeping time to the music with a soup spoon and a pan. He saw the clowns doing cartwheels at the end of the parade and once more he saw the face of his miserable solitude when everything had passed by and there was nothing but the bright expanse of the street and the air full of flying ants with a few onlookers peering into the precipice of uncertainty. Then he went to the chestnut tree, thinking about the circus, and while he urinated he tried to keep on thinking about the circus, but he could no longer find the memory. He pulled his head in between his shoulders like a baby chick and remained motionless with his forehead against the trunk of the chestnut tree. The family did not find him until the following day at eleven o’clock in the morning when Santa Sofía de la Piedad went to throw out the garbage in back and her attention was attracted by the descending vultures.”

    – One Hundred Years of Solitude

    Nirali read under the wild bushes and overhead leaves, as we lay on the stone wall of the boundary on the hilltop, waiting for others to get ready. And I read to her from Teen Roj Ishq, something in words I don’t recall except the memory of the feeling of a heartbreak…two heartbreaks.

    Waiting for the start of retreat, filled with excitement and curiosity, getting together in the night at the studio, retreaters coming in ones or twos and threes. For me, it started with Chirag’s encouragement to share some Maharashtrian galiyan😂 and at that moment I put my walls down.

    Journey was a thrill, credit goes to Priya, Rajesh Ji, Nirali like they made us dance like barati’s at 4 am, it was fun 🤩 Morning discussion: love and emotions were in the air, we listened to Smit read Amrita Pritam’s “me tenu phir milangi” as we sat near the flowing river.

    मैं तैनू फ़िर मिलांगी

    कित्थे किस तरह पता नहीं

    शायद तेरे ताखियल दी चिंगारी बण के

    तेरे केनवास ते उतरांगी

    जा खोरे तेरे केनवास दे उत्ते

    इक रह्स्म्यी लकीर बण के

    खामोश तैनू तक्दी रवांगी

    I will meet you yet again

    How and where? I know not.

    Perhaps I will become a

    figment of your imagination

    and maybe, spreading myself

    in a mysterious line

    on your canvas,

    I will keep gazing at you.

    Sharing some life moments sitting on upper rock beside a small valley with Yogesh ji and Janvi.

    Round and round when roads start moving, like our nervous system started moving with it, (pain sharer: Nirali, we were together in that feeling) and Rajesh ji said “ people who feel nausea are the ones who feel emotions more deeply”

    Sandeep Ji looked up, ‘I should leave acting then’.

    Fun chitchat with backseat members: Smit, Nirali, Bharat, Prashant and Priya. Got to know that Priya’s novel reading journey started with Chetan Bhagat as that was the only book on display in Big Bazaar in 2008, and her dad asked to see the book and the page that opened, was inappropriate for adult conversation! From there, she went on new roads and wordworlds as she started frequenting bookstores for something besides Champak.

    Reading is relieving of feelings for me. Some lines from reading during retreat from “A Movable Feast” by Ernest Hemingway

    “It was necessary to get exercise, to be tired in the body, and it was very good to make love with whom you loved. That was better than anything. But afterwards, when you were empty, it was necessary to read in order not to think or worry about your work until you could do it again.”

    When we connect with nature, it completes something within us “breathing in forest air*

    Yogesh ji said to me, you are star of night and I felt special in that moment, he just made something broken fixed inside me because it’s easy to open up with him, thank you for listening and I enjoyed “heartlight” with you. It was magical and the salsa of Michael Buble “sway” what is more soothing more than that!

    When two introverts meet, if something just clicks, that connection I experienced with Prashant.

    “Zodiac signs or believing in them like a boat seeking land, or for giving direction to life, or are we foolish in contradicting them” start of my conversation with Priya finally.

    On top of mountain sitting on windows corner, me, Priya, Sandip Ji discussed 1857 revolt and importance of preservation of culture and literature, it was a deep and insightful moment.

    Finally, one poem dedicated to lifting some burden off from heart

    By Marry Oliver poem collection “devotions”


     When I moved from one house to another there were many things I had no room for. What does one do? I rented a storage space. And filled it. Years passed. Occasionally I went there and looked in, but nothing happened, not a single twinge of the heart. As I grew older the things I cared about grew fewer, but were more important. So one day I undid the lock and called the trash man. He took everything. I felt like the little donkey when his burden is finally lifted. Things! Burn them, burn them! Make a beautiful fire! More room in your heart for love, for the trees! For the birds who own nothing—the reason they can fly.

    – Shweta

    It was 8 pm and the roads of Ahmedabad as one by one, we all started leaving the traveller. It has been a week, and sitting in a café, compiling these moments, all of us started talking at 2 pm in noon, and it didn’t stop till midnight.


    Vo Bhavita ki daravani hasi, Rajesh Ji ki khato me chipi duniya, Shaurya aur uska chalo pool me jump maro ka smile, Chirag aur uska airbed, volleyball, Mitesh ko utha ke patko, Prashant ki khana khau ya pool me jaun ki uljhan… jo pool me the, unhe hum dur gallery me bethe dekh rahe the, padh rahe the, lete the marble ke farsh par, khana ban ne ke intezar me, bas pahado ke beech, ek dusre ke sath

    Bas itna kahenge hum ki…

    Ye khat main tumhe tab se likh raha hoon jab mujhe likhna nahi ata tha…

    Kam likha hai zyada samajna…