Shon Mehta

A desolate intersection in Vakshi where a shadowless tree stands as a silent witness to the choices of the weary. Along the road to Vakshi, where the ground starts showing cracks like some old pottery, at a crossroad, stands what remains of a tree. The tree had thrived once, and had given shade to weary travelers. Now it was all dried up and shadowless, but it was still popular since in a forest covered with thorny bushes it was the only tree that stood in a clearing. Beneath the tree sat four travelers: the Enjoyer, who mistook stimulation for meaning; the Fearful, who mistook caution for wisdom; the Observer, who mistook detachment for virtue; and The Shy One, who mistook belonging for safety. They were bound by habit, not by heart. They had been walking since dawn, but they were not tired. They were bored, and boredom is a predator. It devours the mind even when the stomach is full. For some, silence is rarely peaceful. It is usually an invitation to speak. "There is nothing he...