“Hi. I don’t mind. Honestly, it’s rare to meet someone who actually reads more than a page before getting distracted.” “Guilty of staying up way too late reading. Once a book hooks me, I can’t put it down.” I smiled at the screen, my fingers moving before I thought too hard. “Same. I tell myself “just one more chapter,” and suddenly the sun’s coming up.”
“So, you have obviously mentioned you’re from India, tell me more about India.” “Yes, I’m from Mumbai, but I’ve been in the States for a little over four years, first to do my bachelors and then to finish my master’s degree. That’s why I was in Chicago.” He replied. “Ok I see, it seems you are familiarized with american culture… Maybe you can teach me some Hindi? I mean if that’s ok? Not sure if that’s offensive?” “Yes, even before moving to the states, I watched many American TV shows, films, and obviously books by American authors… Not offensive at all, I’m very proud of my culture” Soon, our chats became a part of my days. At first, it was just short, casual messages, but within weeks, we were writing paragraphs. About the music that shaped us. The books that stayed with us. Even little things, like how I preferred the quiet of late nights and he loved the way mornings felt before the world was fully awake. Our conversation had drifted easily, like an old jazz record playing softly in the background, smooth, unexpected, and impossible to stop. "I didn’t realize how late it was," I said. Glancing at the clock in the corner of my laptop screen. 12:03 a.m. It blinked at me like it knew something I didn’t. "Guess that’s a good sign. Either we talk too much or time’s just playing tricks on us." "Or both." "What were we even talking about just now?" "Books, You were ranting about how On the Road is overrated." "Because it is!" he continued with a second long text “Kerouac was romanticizing being broke and irresponsible like it was a lifestyle choice.” I raised an eyebrow reading his message. "So you’re telling me if someone handed you a map and a full tank of gas, you wouldn’t go?" It took him a while to reply. "Okay, maybe I'll go. But I’d bring snacks and a charger. You know, the modern version of being spontaneous." I laughed texting back. "Spontaneity with Wi-Fi. Revolutionary." His sarcasm kept our conversations. “I do want to see it, though. All of it. The desert, the redwoods, diners in the middle of nowhere… places where no one knows your name but they still pour your coffee like you’ve been coming there for years. There is this place though it's been on the top of my list since before moving to Colorado. Four corners. Have you heard of it?” "Oh interesting I haven’t, what's there? I questioned back. Although I had never heard his voice, I would imagine it through our texts, it felt as if he was there in the room with me. "It’s where the four corners of Arizona, Colorado, Utah, and New Mexico meet. I keep saying I will go once I have the time. Then, once I figured out who I was going with. I guess I just never went." "Maybe you don’t need a reason, maybe you just need to go." He was quiet for a beat. "You’d come with me?" I blinked, surprised. "What, to four corners?" "To anywhere," he said "Just… hypothetically. If I rented a beat-up car and played terrible playlists, would you sit in the passenger seat?" I bit my lip, smiling. "Only if I get to DJ at least half the time." "Deal" he texted back
immediately. "But only if you don’t skip bollywood songs" "That's a non-negotiable, You’re safe there." In my head I could imagine, like we were sitting next to each other on a porch swing somewhere, not separated by miles and glowing screens. "You think it’s weird," he asked after a moment, "how we never run out of things to say?" "No, I think it’s rare." And in that quiet night, just past midnight, I realized something else too: rare things aren’t meant to be ignored. They’re meant to be followed, even if it means going a little off map. “Nice talking to you pyaari, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” “Pyaari?” “It means “dear” in Hindi, it’s how we refer to our friends or close ones” “Oh okay, good night.” I felt butterflies as I texted back. “Good night.”
~~~~
“So, if you had to choose, books or music?” “That’s cruel. Books feed my mind. Music feeds my heart. I need both.” “Good answer. If you had chosen one, I would’ve known you were lying.” I laughed to myself, shaking my head at my phone.
I must admit that I chose this book because of the title and book cover. I'll never get to see this building, but it has always been on the top of my list of places I would like to have visited... It is indeed a fascinating structure that is well deserved as one of the 8 Wonders of the World!
