Rakesh

Dear diary,
India welcomed me with a wave of sensations that nearly overwhelmed me.
The colors, the smells, the noise — everything was intoxicating, wild yet strangely soothing. There was a rhythm to the chaos here, like the city itself was breathing.​My first day was filled with wonder. I stood in awe before the Taj Mahal, its white marble glowing softly in the warm sunlight. Later, I wandered through narrow streets filled with hidden temples and street vendors, then slipped into a meditation session that left me strangely restless instead of calm.
As dusk began to fall, I found myself in the local spice market, where towers of saffron, cumin, and turmeric surrounded me like a painter’s palette. The air was thick with spices, earthy and sweet.And that’s when I saw him.​Between two massive burlap sacks of spices stood a beautiful man. His presence seemed to still the world around him. For the briefest moment, our eyes met, and I could have sworn he smiled at me — a soft, knowing smile.Caught off guard, I looked away shyly. When I gathered the courage to look back, he was gone.
No trace.It was as if he had dissolved into the air.I searched the market frantically, weaving through crowds, hoping for another glimpse. But he was nowhere.The rest of the day passed in a haze, my mind trapped in loops of missed opportunity, haunted by the fleeting vision of this stranger’s face.That night, I tried to meditate again on the hostel rooftop, hoping to clear my mind.
But every time I closed my eyes, his image burned brighter.
Sleep didn’t come easily either — I tossed and turned for hours before finally giving up and going outside for some fresh air.​The night was warm and heavy, the air fragrant with incense and distant cooking fires. I wandered up to the rooftop again, and as I pushed open the door, my breath caught.He was there.The man from the market — sitting perfectly still, eyes closed, meditating in the moonlight.
I froze, afraid that if I spoke, he would vanish again. Slowly, quietly, I sat beside him. My heart was pounding so hard I could barely breathe.​Minutes passed in silence. Then, without a word, I felt his hand rest gently on my shoulder.
I opened my eyes to see him smiling at me — serene, almost otherworldly.He rose gracefully and gestured for me to follow.Our hands touched, then intertwined. We walked in silence through the quiet streets, the whole city feeling like it had fallen asleep around us.​Finally, we reached a riverbank, its surface shimmering with moonlight.
For the first time, he spoke, his voice deep and calm:
“My name is Rakesh.”​Without another word, he stepped into the water, slowly wading deeper until it reached his shoulders.
He stood there, eyes closed, arms outstretched, fingertips brushing the water’s surface.
It was hypnotic, like watching a spirit communing with the elements.Drawn by an unexplainable force, I followed. The water was warm, soothing, and when I finally reached him, he opened his eyes, reached for me, and kissed me.​It was long and intense, a kiss that felt like dissolving into a dream. My thoughts vanished.
And then — just as suddenly — he was gone.​I gasped, staring at the empty space where he had been, the ripples spreading around me.
Had I imagined it all?I stumbled back to the shore, dazed, and walked slowly back to my hostel, my heart racing. India felt like it was playing mind games with me, blending dreams and reality until I couldn’t tell them apart.Back in my room, I showered and lay naked on the bed, staring at the ceiling, aching to see him again.
The soft breeze from the ceiling fan caressed my skin as I tried to drift to sleep.​Then I felt it — a warm touch on my thigh.
I opened my eyes to find Rakesh, shirtless, sitting beside me. His eyes burned with hunger, his body glowing faintly in the dim light.​I closed my eyes again, terrified that one wrong move would break the spell.
His hands moved slowly, reverently, over my body, teasing and igniting every nerve.
When his lips met mine, I gasped, my hands clinging to him.​He climbed over me, kissing me deeply, his naked, muscled, slightly hairy body pressing against mine. It felt achingly real — too real to be just a dream.He lifted my legs gently over his shoulders, his eyes locking on mine as he slowly, deliberately entered me.The rhythm he built was slow and precise at first, then grew deeper, faster, more urgent.
Pleasure and emotion mingled until I was lost completely, moaning his name, my body trembling under his control.​The final wave came suddenly — a warm, pulsing sensation deep inside me.
I cried out, my entire body releasing, before collapsing beneath him into blissful darkness.When I woke hours later, the bed was empty.Had he ever been there at all?
My body still ached with the memory of his touch, but my mind questioned everything.Was Rakesh a dream, a spirit, a fantasy brought to life by this magical, mysterious place?
I may never know.But as I left India, one thing was certain:
Whether real or imagined, he had changed me.And part of me will always be waiting to dream of him again.