25/40 [tears under the moonlight] Just before I s

Just before I sleep I like to go up the terrace and feel the mellow zephyr embracing my face. It's beautiful especially in this part of the world because being part of the nights in Champawat is a privilege only few get in their lifetimes. However, I am not sure many people try to explore and experience the depth of beauty a single night beholds. I am not even sure many people feel grateful to be born in this part of the world. People in my town are pretty simple. The market and the shops are shut down not too long after the sunset and I'm sure they just sleep after the dinner. I, well, I'm an interesting mixture of an athlete and a poet so I can't do the moongazing for hours because of the workouts on the next day but I have been practicing silence —if I can put it that way— on our terrace for the last two years. You must be wondering how it looks, the night and all. See, Champawat is pretty small. The citylights in the night are scattered across in calm, almost numb ambience. There's a temple at the highest point in a mountain called Kranteshwar whose light shines the highest. In this very mountain Lord Vishnu is said to have taken his second reincarnation as the Koorma Avatara (tortoise manifestation). Interestingly, the meaning of my name means Lord Vishnu. I like this little fact about my name. If you're wondering about the mountain, yes it does look like the shell (or should I call it back?) of a tortoise! The moon shines over the temple's light most of the time I look at it. I've witnessed full moon nights and no moon nights and cloudy nights and starry nights— every kind of nights except the ones full of rains and thunderstorms. Initially when I started this thing I had no routine about it. I used to just lie down with my hands behind my head and look for the answers looking at the stars. I wouldn't spend hours but I loved the little place of solitude away from the family and friends and cricket. I remember the nights of all kinds of tears. I clearly remember the one when I was 17. It happened way before the routine started. I had failed my 12th and was obviously bashed pretty good by pa and it had been a week since the result. It was some night in first week of June when I found myself lying down looking somewhere deep beyond the stars trying to understand what was going to happen to me. I had failed. I felt I had failed my pa and the family and it was not pretty at all. I hadn't been good at expressing my feelings and I hadn't really discoverered writing so when the tears finally made their way out they brought a strange kind of peace to me. Strange because I had never felt this way before. It was still hurting but I had cried properly for the first time since childhood— at the age of 17. Me and the terrace had to become a love story in the upcoming years and we did become a beautiful love story. No doubt about it. In my family I've seen everyone cry in front of me but I'm sure they don't even know if I can cry. Since the childhood they've seen me pretty reserved. I don't let out anything unless it's too important. I feel I'm bad at conversing. Even during the disaster of 2019 (it had something to do with cricket and relationships), when I was on the call with my best mate I didn't cry. I was actually half-laughing in despair. I've been on the phone with the same man when he was struggling and I've listened to his crying voice. I feel the world hasn't seen me crying but the terrace (and sometimes the bathroom) has seen it all. The sad tears, and the happy ones. #40daysofhope