The Surreal Voyage

Chapter 1: Igniting Enthusiasm

In the small village, nestled within the confines of a modest house, the first light of morning was accompanied by the ominous rumble of thunder and the crackle of lightning. Inside, an elderly man, referred to as Nutty Nomad, dozed in a creaky rocking chair, snoring loudly. His peaceful slumber was abruptly disturbed when a joint was gently placed between his lips and lit. He inhaled unconsciously, still asleep, as the curtains were drawn back, revealing flashes of lightning that illuminated the room with eerie bursts of light.

Around him stood three children: ABHA, the eldest at 13, VAIBHAV, a spirited 10-year-old, and the youngest, RAAI, at 7. They watched with a mix of anticipation and amusement, their faces lit up by the mischievous act.

Abha, the boldest, stepped forward and climbed into the old man's lap, wrapping her arms around him. She whispered into his ear, her voice a blend of hope and mischief.

"Ajoba, will you tell us a story today?"

There was no response. Determined, she patted his cheek more insistently.

"Please, Ajoba? A story for today?"

The old man grumbled, his eyes remaining closed. "I'm not in the mood, Abha. Leave me be."

But Abha was not one to give up easily. She signaled to Vaibhav, who promptly turned on an antique gramophone. The crackling melody of "Ek Ladki Bhigi Bhagi Si" filled the room. The children began to dance, their movements a blend of childish enthusiasm and practiced rhythm.

The old man's eyes flickered open, meeting the scene with a blend of irritation and resignation. Taking a deliberate drag from the joint, he exhaled the smoke towards Abha. She flinched slightly, a shadow of annoyance crossing her features, but quickly recovered, breathing in the smoke, her expression softening into a smile.

"Does that set the mood? It's your favorite song, isn't it?" she teased.

Nutty Nomad took a last, lingering drag before snuffing out the joint on Abha's lap. She leaned closer, her face a mask of determined cheer despite a visible shiver.

"Does that put you in the mood? Will you tell us the story now?"

His voice tinged with irritation, Nutty Nomad replied, "Not fucking high enough!"

The atmosphere shifted palpably as the children's faces twisted into expressions of unbridled fury. They launched themselves at the old man with primal ferocity, their screams filling the room as they bit and scratched at him.

"Tell us the story, you old cunt; I've had enough of your bullshit," Vaibhav yelled.

"We've been waiting for so long. If you waste any more of our time, you'll regret every second of it," Abha added.

Nutty Nomad struggled against the onslaught, his voice a mixture of anger and desperation. "Get off of me, you little bastards. Leave me alone!"

The chaos was abruptly cut short by the slamming of a door. Sanskruti, their mother, stood in the doorway, her face a storm of controlled anger.

"What is going on here? Get off him, will you?" she commanded.

The kids instantly calmed, obeying their mother's command. The old man collapsed from his chair to his knees, coughing violently. Sanskruti approached, her expression icy as she observed his plight, then softened as she helped him back into his chair. She handed him a glass of water with a firm yet caring gesture.

"Can you please turn down the music? How many times do I have to tell you? You can't force him into it. It has to come naturally. You okay, Baba?" Sanskruti asked. taking the empty glass from the old man and making a neat peg from the Soch bottle lying on the table.

"But seriously, Baba, there is a limit to everyone's patience. Honestly, all this waiting is getting on my nerves now. Please tell me if I am not doing enough," there is a disappointment in Sanskruti's voice.

Nutty Nomad looked at her, his expression weary yet tender. "No, Bala, that's not the problem…"

Sanskruti's patience snapped. "Then what the fuck is your problem?" she shouted, slamming the glass down too hard, shattering it and slicing her hand. She stared at the broken pieces in shock. "Oh... shit, I'm so sorry, I... I wasn't thinking. Fuck, I've ruined your collection."

Nutty Nomad's concern shifted immediately to Sanskruti. "No, honey, it's okay. Don't worry about the glass. Are you okay? That hand needs attention."

Sanskruti, trying to downplay the injury, began picking the shards from her wound, her voice quivering. "No, it's okay. I'm fine. I'll just make another drink."

She wrapped her scarf around the injured hand as a makeshift bandage and moved towards a shelf holding a pristine set of glasses, determined to make amends. Nutty Nomad watched her with a mixture of frustration and helplessness.

Vaibhav, watching the exchange, chimed in with a blend of sarcasm and innocence. "She said she's fine, Ajoba. Maybe you should take better care of yourself."

"Does that put you in the mood?" Abha asked curiously.

Nutty Nomad responded with a gruff rebuke. "You should speak plainly, you little freaks, or better yet, stay silent like your sister. I can't stand the goatshit that spills from your mouths."

Unfazed, Abha turned to Raai with a smirk. "That's a great line, Raai. Note it down."

Raai dutifully retrieved a pocket diary and jotted down the remark. Sanskruti intervened with a gentle reproach. "Don't speak like that, Baba. They're just concerned for you. Can't you see how much they care?"

Abha and Vaibhav echoed their mother's sentiment in unison. "We really do."

Sanskruti, trying to lighten the mood, prepared another drink and offered it to Nutty Nomad. "Anyway, I thought of a fantastic idea last night. Did you notice the weather outside today, Baba? Isn't it just how you like it?"

Nutty Nomad peered out the window, observing the stormy skies and lightning. "Honey, that's not going to work."

Sanskruti's frustration boiled over. "Can't you stop being so pessimistic for once? I'm trying here, and you haven't even heard my plan yet. You could at least pretend to be interested."

Nutty Nomad, taken aback, could only muster a confused response. "What Plan?"

Sanskruti fixed him with a determined gaze. "It's a surprise, and I am not telling you until you show some enthusiasm."

"Why?" Nutty Nomad asked, still puzzled.

"Show me your enthusiasm. Tell me you are excited. Let's show him, kids. How to be excited," Sanskruti said, turning to the children, determined to elicit some enthusiasm from him. "Show him what excitement looks like! Who's excited here?"

Vaibhav and Abha joined in with eager affirmations. "Me! I'm so excited!" Vaibhav shouted. "And me! I can't wait!" Abha added.

Sanskruti and the kids started a frenzied dance, their energy infectious. Nutty Nomad, caught in the whirlwind, attempted to match their vigor. "I'm excited, I'm so excited, I'm so fucking excited!" he exclaimed.

On the porch that morning, Nutty Nomad and Sanskruti stood before a peculiar truck named "Mahishasur." It was an unusual sight, with a buffalo head mounted at the front, complete with long, menacing horns. The trunk was covered with large woolen sheets, seemingly crafted from the hairs of wild animals.

Nutty Nomad looked uneasy, a sense of discomfort apparent in his demeanor.

"I'm feeling sick," he muttered.

Sanskruti, on the other hand, was brimming with excitement, her eyes sparkling as she took in the sight of the truck.

"Isn't she beautiful?" she exclaimed. "It arrived just last night. One of your fans created it; there are only two of these in the entire world. He kept one for himself and sent the other to you."

She handed him a fan card, which carried a message of deep gratitude.

"My gratitude to Nutty Nomad for changing my life. Eagerly waiting for your next."

Nutty Nomad, bewildered, struggled to comprehend the situation.

"How is this possible? Nobody knows about me beyond my pen name."

Sanskruti looked at him with a mixture of pride and amusement, her voice carrying a hint of admiration.

"You have a cult following, Baba. Some of them can decipher your patterns."

Nutty Nomad's concern deepened at the thought of his privacy being compromised.

"Someone knows our address, knows who we are. Doesn't that worry you?"

Sanskruti attempted to assuage his fears with a reassuring smile.

"Relax, Baba. He's just a fan. I'm sure he means no harm. Let's not be paranoid all the time. Now, forget about that. It's time for a surprise. Kids, come here!"

The children, previously playing around the truck, gathered around, their curiosity piqued.

"We're going on the Nutty Nomad pilgrimage!" Sanskruti announced.

"Yay!" Abhaand Vaibhav shouted joyously.

Vaibhav, asked, "What's a pilgrimage?"

Nutty Nomad, taken aback, questioned the rationale behind the plan.

"What? Why?"

Sanskruti, with a gleam of determination in her eyes, laid out her heartfelt plan.

"Listen. I know it sounds crazy, but I've thought about this all night. The best way to reignite your creativity is to revisit the iconic settings of your novels. It'll stir up nostalgia and inspire new stories."

Nutty Nomad hesitated, then shook his head.

"Please, Baba, don't say no," she continued. "You've hardly left the house since we were kids. Maybe those travels fueled your imagination. And now, being cooped up here has blocked your mind. I've dreamed of visiting those places with you since I was a child."

Nutty Nomad hesitated, then shook his head."But Sanskruti," Nutty Nomad said, hesitantly, "I have never visited those places in my life. I would randomly choose the city or town on the map, whatever sounded cool. Those things I mentioned in my stories don't really exist."

Sanskruti looked unpleasantly surprised. "Sorry, what?"

Nutty Nomad shrugged. "Why are you looking at me like that? It is not my fault you never asked. I get sick while travelling."

Sanskruti's face fell, visibly disappointed and frustrated as if she was about to cry. "I'm just going to pretend you never told me that. We are going on this trip, and that is final. I am not gonna let you ruin this. I'm packing your stuff. Let me know if you have any special requirements."

Sanskruti and the children left, leaving Nutty Nomad standing alone. His gaze fell on the truck's cargo, which made him uneasy. He suspiciously moved towards the truck to peek inside, but suddenly, Sanskruti stopped him by grabbing his hand.

"Baba, what are you doing? You are not supposed to look inside. It is a surprise for later."

"Sanskruti, Bala, it isn't there what I think is there. Right?" Nutty Nomad asked, his voice filled with suspicion.

"Oh, no, no, are you mad? We won't go that crazy, or can we? Guess you'll have to wait and find out," Sanskruti replied with a playful grin. "I'm just kidding. We won't go that crazy."

"No, you won't?" Nutty Nomad questioned, still unsure.

"Absolutely not... Do you have any more questions?" Sanskruti responded firmly.

"Yes, do we have to go in this thing?" Nutty Nomad asked, eyeing the truck warily.

"Yes!" Sanskruti shouted. "God!"

"Okay, end of argument," Nutty Nomad conceded.

She took him inside the house. Vaibhav, with a cassette in his hand, crossed their path and went towards the driver's compartment. He put the cassette in a tape recorder and played it. The lively tunes of "Zindagi Ek Safar Hai Suhana" filled the air.

"Hey, isn't that your favorite song?" Sanskruti asked, smiling.

Sanskruti settled Nutty Nomad into a chair in front of a dressing table, draping a white sheet around his neck before stepping out. Raai entered with a stool, positioning it behind the chair. She sprayed water on his face and hair, readying the comb and scissors.

Vaibhav and Abha rummaged through shelves, gathering Nutty Nomad's unfinished manuscripts. They carefully placed each script into a large suitcase, their faces a mix of reverence and excitement.

With a determined stride, Sanskruti entered the liquor stall, hauling a large wooden barrel. She combined various alcohols into the barrel, stirring the concoction thoroughly.

Two lavish wooden cases sat on the study table—one black, housing a Davidoff Winston Churchill "The Raconteur" cigar set, and the other white, containing a classic collection of oak chillums. Sanskruti secured the cases, handing them to Abha and Vaibhav.

A shelf, grandly titled "Hall of Sage," displayed the lifetime works of Nutty Nomad. Sanskruti, Abha, and Vaibhav each selected a favorite novel—"Samsara," "Wash Your Insanity Machine," and "Silsila Salhakaro Ka," respectively.

Sanskruti glided through the hallway, suitcase in tow, the peacock tracksuit draped over her arm. The walls were lined with exquisite handcrafted stone animal idols.

Vaibhav carefully carried a cage housing a vibrant parrot, his steps measured and cautious.

Abha hoisted two large bags of adult diapers, her preparation thorough and practical.

Sanskruti opened a cupboard revealing an array of dry-cleaned tracksuits adorned with various bird designs. She meticulously folded each one, placing them into a suitcase, leaving out a peacock-embellished suit.

Raai completed her final trim, admiring her work. Nutty Nomad's hair was now neatly cut, making him appear almost bald. She crowned him with a straw hat, and they shared a moment of satisfaction in the mirror.

Raai and Nutty Nomad stepped out, hand in hand, fully dressed. They encountered Sanskruti and the other children busily loading luggage into the truck, each adorned in costumes that paid homage to characters from Nutty Nomad's novels. Sanskruti embodied Shevanta Bai with her red lugda log and gajra, Vaibhav mirrored Atharva with his scholarly look, and Abha channeled Avantika with her night-blue frock and headscarf.

The family squeezed into the cramped quarters of the truck's cab. Sanskruti took the wheel, and they rolled out of the driveway. Moments into their journey, a deafening thunderclap struck a nearby tree, setting it ablaze and toppling it across their path. The family gazed in awe, their shock tinged with a thrill.

"Isn't this like the bad omen from your book, 'Samsara'?" Vaibhav asked, his voice a mix of excitement and fear.

Sanskruti, unfazed, channeled the spirit of her character with a profound quote from the novel.

it is the hunger for the madness that sparks rebellion. This isn't just a bad omen; it's the rarest of them all."

Abha, caught up in the moment's dramatic flair, couldn't help but comment.

"What a diabolical start of the journey, finally, some adventure"

Raai, ever the observer, diligently scribbled in her diary, immortalizing the moment.

Sanskruti, determined not to let the omen dampen their spirits, cranked up the music, her voice rising above the melody.

"MAUT AANI HAI AYEGI IK DIN JAAN JAANI HAI JAYEGI IK DIN," she sang passionately.

Caught up in their mother's infectious energy, Abha and Vaibhav joined in, their voices blending with hers.

The song filled the cab as Sanskruti expertly maneuvered the truck around the fallen tree, their journey undeterred by the ominous start. The family's voices intertwined with the song's upbeat rhythm, embodying the resilience and adventurous spirit of their quest.