there is a place in the hills somewhere where the corridors are white and i meet dushyant. the boy, i hear, is ill. i meet him and give him a hug. on the way back to the nearest city there are no rickshaws available on the street. they all seem to be headed the wrong way. parulekar and me take a motorcycle. i am tied to the back of it like a kite as he rides wild and fast over the hills and valleys. as he races i soar into the sky, fall into puddles on top of mountains, bounce off trees until i get stuck in a lush green valley. sonal and kalpit meet me there and she tells me about the beach on top of kanheri caves which suddenly looks to me like a puddle with soft sand underneath. kalpit puts his hand in it and squeezes the sand that stays exactly in the same form that he has shaped it into. “ this is nothing- you should hear about the ghost stories i heard of in ahmedabad., says k. “i hate ghost stories.” i shout and try and scramble out of the bushes. as i am climbing, suddenly there is one place that i cant get out of. k and s try and help me out but they also seem to be slipping. and then suddenly in the bushes that i try and hold on to i see the shoes of a petrified dead body. i scream and try to look for another way out but the whole series of bushes in front of me turn out to be corpses standing upright in a forest of trees.
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