Hurry | Short Story in English

Some things are like Mahameru Pushpam. A rare indigenous flowering species that only blooms once every 400 years, or so goes its legend. The flower itself has only been heard of in stories. It's so incredibly hard to find that no one wants to spend their life in its pursuit.

The Spiti Valley and Komic Village have a similar story to tell. Ground forming broken tiles by the dry and cold climate on the mountain. At 4,000 feet High and far away from the ground reality of life. a majestic and steady blow of the wind through the enormous grass-engulfed terrains, and a few sunflowers springing out to signify life. Peace and tranquillity flutter through the flags and emblems every few kilometres. A place SO lovely and yet so lonely A village forgotten by the world.

komic village

Hurry stood at the entrance of the old village tea shop, with half of its back wall piled down into broken bricks. He pinched his love handles to see if the mountains had any effect. A few old fellows are sipping away at a hot cup of tea, covered by age and dust. The ancestors straightened their backs as the travellers approached. Wrinkled, cheeky, innocent smiles revealed twisted teeth as they looked at each other in amusement at the tired travellers who asked them questions in a language they did not know.

"Do! You! Know! Naga?" asked the desperate Huri in a raised voice and with a dramatic animation of his body to mirror the words.

"Go to the police station," replied a smiling simpleton.

Hurry had travelled 700 kilometres over the past couple of days. From the south of India to the northernmost corridor, changing buses, trains, and rickshaws to get to this tiny forgotten village, where lived the most successful person on the planet, He wasn't in a frame of mind to go back empty-handed. But let's go back a few decades to understand Hari Prasad Das.