I’m writing this as if we’re walking.
Not facing each other.
Not trying to reach anywhere quickly.
Just moving forward, side by side.
Last Saturday, five of us walked for nearly ten kilometres.
There was no purpose behind it.
No intention to arrive anywhere.
Each of us had lived the entire week inside our own lives—our own routines, our own thoughts. This walk was simply a place where five separate lives crossed paths for a while.
At first, we spoke the way people usually do—about work, studies, money, uncertainty.
Sentences were careful. Opinions slightly guarded.
Then the road lengthened.
Breath found its rhythm.
Steps softened.
Phones stayed in pockets. Everyone had one, but no one thought of taking a photograph—not because we decided not to, but because the thought never came.
We were too immersed to remember documentation.
That absence felt important.
Youth Has a Certain Energy
There was a particular energy in that walk—not excitement, not ambition, but something unmistakably young.
Questions were alive, not rehearsed.
Doubts were spoken without embarrassment.
No one was pretending to have figured life out.
It wasn’t a discussion.
It was an interaction—five lives touching, influencing each other quietly.
One of them said he felt fresh.
Another said refreshed.
No one said “inspired.”
And that felt right.
Something Shifted in Me Too
Something in me loosened as well.
I wasn’t trying to be anyone for them.
I wasn’t carrying answers.
I was simply there—matching pace, listening, allowing silence.
From that place, a quiet responsibility appeared.
Not pressure.
Not ambition.
Just a simple knowing: I need to do my work more honestly—so I can better support others, and also myself.
The feeling was familiar.
It carried the same texture I had once felt while walking on the ghats with students from Banaras Hindu University—long conversations, unhurried time, no role to play.
This wasn’t nostalgia.
It was continuity.
When Nothing Needs to Be Captured
Walking does something subtle.
It doesn’t give answers.
It restores courage.
Courage to stay with questions.
Courage to continue without pretending.
I wasn’t guiding anyone.
I wasn’t offering advice.
Often, just walking together is enough.
If You’re Reading This From Wherever You Are
You might be sitting still right now.
Or scrolling.
Or resting between tasks.
Read this as a walk.
You don’t need to change your life today.
You don’t need to define success, money or purpose right now.
Just imagine taking one step.
Then another.
Not toward a goal—
But toward a little more honesty with yourself.
Some walks don’t need photographs.
They leave something else behind.
And sometimes, five lives walking together for a while is enough to remind us that we are capable of more—quietly, without force.