I’m writing this from a quiet corner of a hostel in Ujjain. It’s supposed to feel freeing—a solo trip, no rules, no people to answer to.
But honestly? It’s lonely as hell.
It started in Pune. A train to Khandwa, followed by a cab ride that drained both my energy and my patience. When I reached Omkareshwar, the temperature was a freezing 10 degrees. The water everywhere was cold enough to make my bones ache, but the Narmada River? Warm. Comforting. Almost as if it was holding a secret it refused to share. I stood there for a long time, watching the steam rise off its surface, wondering about its strength. How does something stay warm when everything around it is freezing? How do you keep going when everything feels so cold?
The town of Omkareshwar felt ancient and alive all at once. The narrow streets were filled with vendors selling hot chai(I have drank 16 cups of tea till now).
The temple stood tall. I walked around aimlessly, hoping the place would whisper some answers to me. It didn’t, but it felt good to pretend it might.
From Omkareshwar, I took a bus to Ujjain. Cheap tickets, cramped seats, and long hours. Somewhere in the middle, we crossed Indore. Clean roads, neat city planning—it looked almost too good to be true.
Now, here’s a funny (not-so-funny) moment. Saw these shoes on the trip. They were affordable, or so I thought. Bought them, only to realize my bank account was basically a ghost town. Shubh(a friend) bailed me out with some cash. Thanks, Shubh. Nothing more than “solo independence” like asking for help, huh?
When I reached Ujjain, exhaustion hit me like a truck. But the city had its own charm. The Mahakal temple’s new corridor is enormous. Walking through it, I managed to rack up 23,000 steps in a single day. 23,000 steps—and yet I feel like I’m still standing in the same place. People talk about solo trips like they’re a spiritual awakening. For me, it’s more like a cruel joke. Who even goes on solo trips? People who don’t have friends, maybe. People who’ve got too much time to think. People like me.
But there were moments, fleeting as they were, that made the loneliness bearable. Like watching the sunrise over the river, the light bouncing off the water in a way that made everything feel a little less heavy. Or the uncle in bus fighting for window seat (I didn’t give guys, chill, road important). Small things, but they stick with you.
It’s not the silence that’s hard. It’s the constant company of your own thoughts. They don’t shut up. They’re louder than the bus honks, more persistent than the cold, and heavier than the steps I’ve taken.
I’m here, trying to find something. Maybe it’s myself. Maybe it’s nothing. All I know is, the road doesn’t end. Not here in Ujjain, not in Omkareshwar, and definitely not in the warmth of the Narmada.
So, I keep walking.
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