This is the story of a boy named Shree. He was 21 years old.
A year earlier, Shree had been working in a small electrical shop in his town in the Northeast. One morning, he was late for work. His boss was furious, slapped him in front of the customers, and shouted at him. Humiliated, Shree shouted back, using abusive words. From that day, he knew this job and this life were not worth the little time he had left.
Months before, doctors had told him, “Shree, you have a brain tumor. You might have only two years left.” His parents had died years ago, and he had no friends or family. The news shattered him—but it also set him free.
He decided he would not waste his remaining days. He stopped taking his medicine, packed his bag, and bought a second-hand bike. His dream was to see the whole of India before his time ran out.
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The Northeast
He began his journey at home, traveling through the lush green hills of Arunachal Pradesh, Meghalaya, Nagaland, Manipur, Mizoram, Tripura, and Assam.
In Assam, he joined the Bihu festival—dancing with locals to the sound of dhol and pepa, tasting pitha sweets, and watching fields filled with color. In Nagaland, he witnessed the Hornbill Festival, where every tribe danced in their traditional dress, painted with vibrant patterns.
In Meghalaya, he crossed the living root bridges in Cherrapunji, walked through clouds, and saw waterfalls vanish into deep valleys. In Arunachal, he rode to Tawang Monastery, standing silent among snow peaks. In Nagaland–Manipur, he trekked to Dzükou Valley, where flowers stretched to the horizon
North India
From the Northeast, Shree rode west into Bihar’s ancient towns, then climbed into Uttarakhand’s Himalayan foothills. He hiked through pine forests, visited mountain temples, and felt the icy winds on his face.
In Punjab, he visited the Golden Temple, watching the golden dome reflect in the water and tasting food from the free community kitchen. In Rajasthan, he joined the Holi festival—throwing colors into the air, laughing with strangers, and feeling like a child again.
He traveled through Himachal and into Kashmir. He saw Dal Lake at sunrise, houseboats floating on still waters, and snowflakes drifting from the sky. He ate wazwan, Kashmir’s famous feast, while sitting by a warm fire.
South India
From the north, he rode down the western coast to Mumbai, where the crowd never stopped moving. He walked along Marine Drive at night, watching the city lights curve like a necklace by the sea.
In Kerala, he celebrated Onam, watching snake boat races and eating a feast on banana leaves. In Thrissur, he saw Pooram—elephants dressed in gold, fireworks bursting above temples, and the sound of drums shaking the air.
In Tamil Nadu, he joined Pongal, seeing cattle decorated with flowers and horns painted bright. He tasted sweet pongal and crispy dosa from street stalls. In Karnataka, he visited the ruins of Hampi during its cultural festival, where dancers moved under the stars among ancient stones.
The End
Finally, he returned north, heading into the high Himalayas one last time. His body was weak, but his heart was full. In Kashmir, he sold his bike, climbed a quiet mountain, and sat on the grass.
He gazed at the snow-covered peaks, breathing slowly. The wind was cold, but the view was warm with memories.
His last words were spoken softly into the air:
“You have time—so see the world. I don’t have time, but you do. Just do it.”
