Brahmāstra: Part One - Shiva Spin-off: The Varanasi lovers

Chapter 5 - Ashram

Once I got out of the commune area, I had to figure out the best way to reach the ashram. If my memory serves me right, there are a few ways to get there, each offering a different kind of journey.

One route was the longest, and probably the most physically draining—the road. The traffic, the unrelenting noise, the horns blaring, people shouting... it was enough to make anyone lose their mind. That was not an option for me. The fact that the ashram is near Rishikesh didn't help either. The road stretches on for 1,700 kilometres (1,056 miles), and the idea of sitting in a car for hours on end, trapped with my thoughts, was unbearable.

Flying seemed like a better choice, cutting the distance to 1,400 kilometres (870 miles). Planes are usually fine if I can book a decent seat in advance—but this time, I hadn't planned anything. Typical. I'd have to get to Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj International Airport and fly to Dehradun, which is still about twenty kilometres (12 miles) from Rishikesh. From there, I'd need to take a taxi or catch a local bus. Not ideal, but manageable.

Then there's the train—a slower, quieter way to travel. I could take a train from here to Haridwar Junction, just 25 kilometres (15 miles) from Rishikesh. Once I arrive, I'd have to take another bus or taxi, but at least it's only a 45-minute ride from there. Something about the slow rhythm of a train feels more... grounding, but is it really what I need right now? Or would it just give me too much time to think?

I had to choose quickly, but none of the choices seemed perfect. Each one reflected the scattered state of my mind. Road, train, plane—no matter the route, I couldn't escape myself. But if I wanted to stay sane, there was only one choice. I reached into my pocket and called the taxi service whose number I had saved. Routine decisions in a moment of chaos—it felt like control, even if it wasn't real.

Once the taxi arrived, the journey was strangely quiet. There weren't many cars on the road, despite a festival happening nearby. It was almost as if the world knew I needed the silence to sort through the mess in my head. Funny how life throws you peace when you least expect it.

For a moment, I wished someone had been with me. Someone who understood what this journey meant. Someone that could soothe my anguish, just by ...But just as quickly, I shoved the thought aside. No. I couldn't afford to let my mind wander there. Not now.

I looked out the window, my gaze following the endless stretch of road, but I barely registered the landscape passing by. The world outside seemed to mirror the fog in my head—distant, unreachable. Everything felt suspended, as if time itself didn't know whether to speed up or slow down. My thoughts swirled in a chaotic dance, but my body sat still, locked in the backseat, waiting for... something.

By the time we arrived at the airport, I almost didn't notice how quickly we had gotten there. I felt a strange sense of urgency as I stepped out of the taxi and hurried inside. It was as if, in that moment, everything became clear. I knew exactly what I had to do. Maybe it was the simplicity of movement—no more choices, just action.

When I reached the check-in counter, luck was on my side. Someone had just cancelled their flight. Their seat was mine now. It felt too convenient, too smooth, like the universe had just opened a door for me. Or maybe I was just desperate enough to see it that way.

I didn't question it. I just took the ticket, checked in, and walked toward security. There was no time to second-guess, no time to think about anything except the next step. The ashram awaited, and for better or worse, I was on my way.

Once I sat on the plane, I realised something strange. I had been scratching my collarbone absentmindedly, and that's when it hit me. My pendant. Usually, I have my silver Aum with a rudraksha and a hawk's eye stone embedded. I always wear it. It was almost a part of me, but in the rush, I'd forgotten to put it on.