Prologue: Echoes and Invitations
From a forthcoming reincarnation novel by Sachin Karnik
✨ **Soul Verse**
“But which
were his dreams—echoes of a vow already broken, or invitations to a vow yet to
come?”
I blog about Just anything that fancies me.Hope you appreciate it
“But which
were his dreams—echoes of a vow already broken, or invitations to a vow yet to
come?”
Ek Shabd hota,
Ek Gungun hoti,
Ek athavan hoti.
(One word, One hum,One Memory)
Every story begins with a threshold. Mine begins with echoes—dreams that feel like invitations, motifs that return like companions, and verses that ripple across lifetimes.
This is not yet the Prologue. It is a doorway. A quiet step into the spiral of vows, flames, leaves, and horses that will carry us forward. Tomorrow, the Prologue will open fully. Today, I invite you to pause at the threshold and listen.
If I could re-live a year, it wouldn’t be for correction—it would be for immersion.
I’d return to the year I first met silence. Not the absence of sound, but the hush that follows a story well told. The year I walked barefoot on moss, Heard my grandfather whisper to the jungle, And watched a horse named Meghraj blink at me like he knew.
That year didn’t roar. It rippled.
And if I could re-live it, I wouldn’t change a thing. I’d just listen more deeply.
Travel India by Feeling, not by Checklist.
I. The Whisper Before the Roar
A pebble does not ask to be noticed.
It simply falls—
into a pond,
into a memory,
into the soft soil of someone’s day.
I remember a morning in Kharghar,
when the mist hadn’t yet decided whether to stay.
A child—barefoot, curious—picked up a stone
and placed it on a temple step.
No words. No ritual. Just presence.
And somehow, the silence felt blessed.
II. The Philosophy of Smallness
We chase the grand:
monuments, milestones, meaning.
But what if the universe is tuned to the subtle?
A glance that comforts.
A pause that listens.
A story told not to impress, but to heal.
In Buddhist thought, even a breath carries karma.
In quantum theory, observation alters reality.
In your grandmother’s kitchen,
a pinch of spice changed the whole dish.
III. Suresh’s Story: The Roar Within
Suresh was quiet for years.
Not shy—just waiting.
He worked in shadows,
wrote poems on receipts,
left them in library books for strangers to find.
One day, he spoke.
Not loudly, but with clarity.
His words—about grief, about hope—
rippled through a WhatsApp group,
then a blog,
then a classroom in Pune where a teacher read his lines aloud.
Suresh had become vocal.
Ready to roar.
And all it took was one pebble:
a friend who said, “Your silence is sacred, but your voice is needed.”
IV. The Invitation
So here’s the question, dear reader:
What pebble have you dropped into the world lately?
Not to make waves,
but to make meaning.
Write a note.
Smile at the chaiwala.
Share a story that aches to be heard.
Because the cosmos listens.
And sometimes, the smallest thing
is the most divine.
If this story stirred something within you, drop your own pebble—share a quiet moment in the comments or subscribe to follow more gentle ripples.
Before the world wakes, there’s a hush that heals. This chapter begins in that hush—where grief softened, and clarity bloomed.
It wasn’t discipline—it was grief. I found myself awake before dawn, and in that quiet, something shifted. The silence became a sanctuary.
Start with intention. Set your alarm, prepare a quiet corner, and greet the day with softness. Track your mornings and notice the ripple.
There’s something sacred about the hills here. The mist, the birdsong, the first light—it’s a quiet invitation to begin again.
If this post stirred something quiet in you, consider joining The Quiet Map—a ripple-ready newsletter for gentle seekers.
Prologue : Echoes and Invitations From a forthcoming reincarnation novel by Sachin Karnik ✨ **Soul Verse** Ek gungun hoti. Ek shwas ...