“Never go back to a place where you have been happy. Until you do it remains alive for you. If you go back it will be destroyed.” - Agatha Christie

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Despite the general consensus against flying, he looked forward to the “me time”; watching movies, eating, and sleeping while being attended to. Not today.

He had not eaten a single meal, and was looking forward to meeting his mates, after almost four decades. He asked for an orange juice, adjusted the headphones, and pulled the blanket up to his neck.

Spinning the clock back in his mind, he smiled. It had been a daily ritual of sorts at the local chai-wallah, the owner known simply as 'Uncle'. His mob of teenagers would leave the place either when ‘Uncle’ closed for the day, or when their banter was exhausted. Usually, it was the former.

At the time, it seemed like they would grow old together, in the same time and place. Even when their career paths diverged, they continued the soirée unabated. Jabber of playing Cricket turned to discussing the game, there being no time left to play from the pursuit of happiness, a la Economics.

Daily catch-ups turned to weeklies until the span stretched to months and geographies. Videoconferencing provided a fun alternative but the novelty wore off. Promises to sync again diluted and broke. After reviving connections on socials, he had suggested a meetup and was almost in tears when the mob agreed en masse.

After landing, and navigating the usual drills at the airport, he hailed a cab, and settled back to enjoy the nostalgia rushing past as the driver made his way to the destination, replete with honking, cursing, and breaking traffic rules. He would catch up with his buddies before heading home to see his family.

When he alighted at the rendezvous spot, he had to stretch for a bit. The ride had taken its toll on his lower back and it was something he didn't miss from the old days when a rough ride was part of everyday life.

His friends, now balding and graying, not unlike himself, were as welcoming as he could remember. They hugged him and complimented him on his physique; quite the contrast from their sagging chests and growing bellies.

“Foreign countries keep you fit, yaar. Everyone is into exercise and fitness!” One of his mates teased him.

“Arrey, I ask you what is the need to struggle with exercise at this age? Who's going to a Mr. India contest, huh? Enjoy life!” Another shared his philosophy.

He just laughed along because he was happy to be back in their company, and at Uncle's.

“Hey buggers,” he finally asked, “Where's the chai?”

“You still remember, no? Bugger’s not changed a bit that way!”

“Of course I remember.” He laughed. “Now, let's order a round or five.”

“No more Uncle's chai, man. He was bought over by that big American cafe chain!”

“What? No.”

“Ya! Hey, but they make a good latte, okay?”

With countless names, how do I address thee?

You respond to all aliases, whatever they may be.

All I ask, after thanking you for the day:

Let rationality and brotherhood prevail, I pray.

There are the strong and the mighty who can

Decimate others in a shocking, short span

To these, I ask, that you bless with being aware

That aggression leaves nothing to spare.

To those who are weak, and feel repressed at lot

Please provide strength to endure the onslaught

But also to be wise against retaliation of fear

So a semblance of the elusive peace can appear.

For on this tiny speck of a planet in the void

There's much to preserve; though lot has been destroyed

And from your vantage point in the heavens above

All that matters is, understanding and love.

You aren't for the Heavens yet

But no longer for the Earth either.

The goal of your existence unmet;

Your experiences, no more wiser.

But don't look back on the barren

Discarded, decaying garden of hope.

The branches of love now fallen

And romances on a slippery slope.

For when it's the day of Death

We move on to worlds apart.

So, don't waste another breath

And no longer take things to heart.

This is an extract from a series of short stories which I hope to blend into a full-length novel (or at least a novella).

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She couldn’t remember how she got there.

So, I am sitting in a bubble where everything’s blurry around me, I don’t have any idea why or how, and there’s a plate of butter chicken and rice in front of me, thought Sally and then pinched herself to ensure she was awake. It made her wince and that was scary. She looked around at the blurred phenomenon again. There were muted conversations coming from all directions, in English, mostly.

Sally rubbed her eyes, blinked a few times and then peered around again. Was she in a-?

OMG! I am at an intersection. An actual, stable intersection!

The edges of the sphere were blurred, as if she were sitting inside a glass marble with a frosted surface.

So, this is how an intersection feels. I wish I could tell dad!

***

“Dad,” Sally called out to the man hunched over his desk with a lamp partially illuminating his head while the rest of the spread, and the spill, illuminating his disorderly paperwork, “Did you work through the night again?”

“Huh?” her father looked up at her and then flopped back down.

Sally walked behind him and ruffled his almost grey, curly hair. “It’s 8:44 a. m.” she announced.

“What?” exclaimed her father and stood up. “I must be in the lab by 9:30… at least!”

“Good luck with that.” Sally teased him even as he rushed to the bathroom.

***

Sally sat awestruck in the intersection, admiring the spectacle, almost tempted to peep through the hazy boundary.

Would it still be stable if I stepped back and reentered?

She stood up and walked a few calculated steps behind. She was back in a cavernous hall teeming with food stalls, familiar noises, and people. One of those people landed a few metres away, his jet-pack, hissing lightly, no bigger than a rucksack. As the man gave her a quick smile, Sally looked at the ceiling which displayed a perfectly augmented day with a few white fluffy clouds and an occasional bird flying by. She then took a deep breath and stepped back into the intersection that was, thankfully, still in front of her, though barely visible.

The other world in the intersection didn’t appear to be hostile, and that was a relief. With so many accidents during the beta phase, there was a chance one could be killed instantly; by a toxic environment, or untamed inhabitants, or simply because the intersection snapped shut without notice.

It brought back memories of her dad, and his disappearance.

***

The transporter dropped them off at the lab, save a few minutes of walking. Sally struggled to keep up with her dad who strode ahead with an old-fashioned leather bag in tow.

After the biometric scanners were satisfied, a seemingly impenetrable wall disappeared and they paced to the meeting room where an eager group of scientists were busy chattering. On seeing Dr. Kross approaching, they began an applause worthy of the highest Scientific honour. Sally beamed at the standing ovation given to her father.

“Please be seated… friends.” Dr Kross grinned, “All of you deserve the applause too, perhaps more than I do. Let’s not forget the power of a team. We are so much more together than just the sum of all!”

“So, when do we test it?” exclaimed someone from the back of the room.

Once the laughter had simmered down, Dr. Kross said: “We have confirmed the theory so far which, which is brilliant in itself. I double and triple checked it last night. However, the task of ensuring we can actually see an intersection, or feel one, or even enter one ourselves begins now.”

“So, it’s just an engineering problem now, isn't it?” someone quipped and the room filled with laughter again.

That was mine years ago. A lot had happened since: the first intersection was manifested. It lasted less than a second which was enough to win her father the Science Maestro award which he had dedicated to his team. Meanwhile, Sally completed her doctorate and now headed the lab that her father built. The nine years also included the time when her father disappeared into another Universe, through an intersection that closed sooner than predicted.

Sally hoped he was still alive in that parallel Universe and her mission was to perfect the predictability, stability, and destination of the intersections, if at all possible.

I'm coming for you dad. Hang on, stay safe, and stay alive!

Why do I feel my words are simple?

Why do I never eloquently write?

I'd like to think I keep them nimble

But I know not if that's wrong or right.

Upon reading works and poems, and lyrics

I wonder at their mastery of style

And language with all it's tricks

That make the reading, well, worthwhile.

Perhaps it's not a competition (or maybe it is)

Of writing the most ornate work of art

To express their thoughts and add some fizz.

As for me, perhaps, maybe, it's just a start.

I wish I had a superpower. Not many, just one.

I wish I could pile up the trillions of smouldering embers that inhabit every speck of my being, into a raging fire.

At will.

I am sure this brings up visions of super-villains that seek to avenge, to burn down everyone who wronged them, and demand respect by fear.

That is not my goal.

If I could manifest the ignition of everything I am made of, I would, to begin with, warm up every heart. Thaw out the coldness of a greeting, the icy, almost glacial ways of social media, and the frigid emotions of sceptical, ambivalent relationships.

I would go about burning down every irrationality, every fear, and every mangled and knotted rope of a cynical past.

I would, if I had this superpower, spread like a wildfire, and extinguish the jungles of hate and intolerance so that a fresh crop of love could bloom.

As I close my eyes and meditate with long, purposeful breaths, I feel the embers stirring and assimilating. They surge from the open mind across the wide plains of the heart, through the generous lungs and down to eager feet.

I am ready to take the first step.

Over at http://www.blink-ink.org/current-submissions, there's a 50-word challenge on the theme of "UFO". Join in! Here's what I submitted.

“Shall we make contact?”

“Wait! Let me check them out first.” After some furious tapping. “No, be careful. They can be dangerous.”

“Dangerous? Notice how many wars they’ve had in just a century? They seem happy to kill each other.”

“Yes, and goats are a delicacy: that’s you and me!”