Chapter 15 — Home
And thus begins Chapter Fifteen.
The Final Leg.
Now.
There I sat.
On the train.
Homeward bound.
The mountains behind me.
The journey nearly over.
And something strange kept happening.
The council leans forward.
People kept asking me if I had weed.
The council nods.
A reasonable assumption.
Children.
I did not.
My most recent attempt to acquire weed had resulted in being offered a prostitute and subsequently robbed.
The council applauds.
A truly educational experience.
Now.
The requests kept coming.
One person.
Then another.
Then another.
Until eventually curiosity overpowered confusion.
Why did everyone assume I had weed?
The council waits.
And then I looked down.
At the jacket.
The council already knows.
Correct.
The jacket.
My souvenir from Kasol.
The jacket I bought because I thought it was cool.
The jacket I never properly examined.
Children.
Across the back,
written in glorious neon lettering,
were the words.
“I HAVE WEED.”
The council collapses.
Oh.
That explains quite a lot.
Now.
The mystery solved,
I retired the jacket immediately.
Back into the bag it went.
And out came my natural camouflage.
Black hoodie.
Cargo shorts.
The council applauds.
The uniform.
Children.
If Nuo were a video game character,
this would be the default skin.
Now.
The journey resumed.
And this is where things became weird.
The council becomes concerned.
Again.
Now.
Most people who smoke on trains operate under a very specific philosophy.
Hide.
Smoke.
Return.
Deny everything.
A time honored tradition.
Not this train.
The council listens.
Children.
People were lighting up in their seats.
Casually.
Openly.
Like they were ordering tea.
Now.
Being a creature heavily influenced by context,
I reached a conclusion.
Must be the local culture.
The council groans.
A dangerous sentence.
And so I joined them.
The council buries their faces.
Now.
The cigarette had barely existed for thirty seconds when fate arrived.
Wearing a uniform.
The conductor.
The council erupts.
Children.
Of all the possible moments.
Now.
The conductor looked at me.
I looked at him.
We shared a moment.
A silent understanding.
Then I got fined.
The council applauds.
Justice.
Now.
As I looked around,
something remarkable happened.
The council waits.
Every cigarette vanished.
Every lighter disappeared.
Every smoker transformed into a model citizen.
The council erupts.
Children.
Not a trace remained.
I began questioning reality itself.
Five seconds ago I was practically inside a chimney.
Now everyone looked ready to receive national awards for public conduct.
Now.
I attempted diplomacy.
Explained my situation.
Brother.
I have no money.
The council nods.
A factual statement.
The conductor remained unconvinced.
Tribute was demanded.
The council waits.
And so I offered him a souvenir.
A wallet.
The one from Kasol.
The council already knows.
Children.
The wallet had a giant weed leaf on it.
The conductor looked at the wallet.
Then at me.
Then at the wallet.
Then at me.
The council collapses.
At this point I genuinely appeared to be a traveling ambassador for marijuana.
Now.
A full body search followed.
Then a luggage search.
The council applauds.
A thorough investigation.
And somehow,
against all odds,
I emerged victorious.
No contraband.
No additional fines.
No prison.
A free man.
Now.
The train rolled onward.
The mountains faded.
The plains returned.
And eventually.
Kerala.
The council smiles.
Home.
Then my city.
Then my street.
Then my house.
The council grows quiet.
And finally.
My room.
Children.
I opened the door.
Walked inside.
And collapsed.
Onto the bed.
The council nods.
A traditional homecoming.
Now.
You might think I collapsed because I was exhausted.
You would be wrong.
I collapsed because I missed my bed.
The council applauds.
An important distinction.
Now.
Lying there.
Back where everything began.
Something occurred to me.
The council listens.
The boy who boarded that train weeks ago had run away.
Not from people.
Not from responsibility.
Not even from life.
He ran because the world had become heavy.
Too heavy.
The council nods.
And somehow.
Somewhere between the mountains.
The pack.
The rave.
The snow.
The waterfall.
The dog.
The goat.
Hazel.
The brownie shop.
The conversations.
The silence.
And the road itself.
something shifted.
The council grows silent.
I returned lighter.
Not wiser.
Gods no.
The council laughs.
Let’s not get carried away.
But happier.
And sometimes,
children,
that is enough.
Thus concludes The Wanderings of the Unbegun.
Not with enlightenment.
Not with revelation.
Not with a grand speech atop a mountain.
But with a boy returning home.
A little bruised.
A little poorer.
Considerably weirder.
And undeniably happier.
The road had given him exactly what he needed.
Not answers.
Just enough room to breathe.
And for once,
that was more than enough.
