It was a warm Sunday morning when I set out on my motorcycle to indulge in the twisties of the hillside on the outskirts of Bengaluru. It took me about an hour to get to the base. I then began my ascent toward the clouds. As I rode along, enjoying the grandeur of nature, I could hear the trees talking as the winds whistled through them. The sound was eerie but calming nevertheless. The light from the mid-morning sun shone brightly through the trees. It was a blend of cold wind and the warm sun, a blissful feeling indeed. The ride continued until I decided to stop midway before the final ascent to frame some visuals of the beautiful landscape that spanned the horizon. I parked my motorcycle on the gravel at the side of the road and took a walk to find a spot. I found a place and strolled upwards towards a flat rock. Once I was there, I unearthed a hidden marvel of nature. I was in awe. To have stumbled upon this rare sight was magical. It was the ’Flower of Youth’. The tales were true. There it was, gleaming brightly under the Sunday sun. A story to be told for the days to come.
Was it true? Or was it a dream?
I soon realized, as I opened my eyes and awakened from my deep slumber, that I was still in bed, dreaming away as the telephone rang, reminding me of a bike ride to begin. And I was late, shit.
