Anya found inspiration everywhere. He met her walking on the streets of Goa playing his guitar, or he also met her in someone clicking beautiful pictures. Every person following their dream was inspiring her.
That evening she was ecstatic, exploring Bangalore with her bestie. Mr. Inspiration had not knocked the door by that time. They reached the bus stop panting to catch the overfull BMTC bus. She was giggling uncontrollably over one of their jokes. “It’s such a blessing that most people here will not understand Marathi” Astha giggled.
After standing for a few minutes both were able to occupy seats in the bus. They continued to chat in Marathi, their native tongue. One woman sitting opposite to them also got into their conversation, as she spoke the same language. They were discussing the life in Bangalore, comparing it with Mumbai and Pune.
Anya noticed the second girl opposite to them was also listening in to their conversation, having removed her headphones. It was a coincidence that all four spoke Marathi and were now deep into conversation. “I love it when I discover Marathi people here in Bangalore,” Anya said.
Since it was a long route, Anya ended up finding out that the girl in the corner was a writer. Shalaka wrote blogs and did freelancing jobs for travel companies. Anya was awed. They quickly shared contacts and hurried out of the bus as their stop was near. “It’s such serendipity to find a Marathi writer here” Anya shouted out while running towards the BMTC stop.
Mr. Inspiration had made an appearance.