THE END OR THE BEGINNING…

He awoke to the gentle chirping of birds outside his window, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of discoveries he had made the night before. He lay in bed for a moment, the memories of his journey to the hidden chamber fresh in his mind. He felt different, changed. He was no longer the same confused, questioning child who had arrived at this rest house. He was a seeker, a learner, armed with knowledge and a newfound sense of purpose.

He rose from bed and looked out the window at the haystacks, now bathed in the soft morning light. They seemed less mysterious now, more like familiar friends. He smiled, remembering the old woman's words, "The light will appear again. When you are ready." He had been ready. He had asked the right questions.

His journey had begun with a simple question: Can a child be all these? Sagacious... sensible, responsible, adult, level-headed, reliable, dependable, discerning, shrewd, practical, wise, experienced, sophisticated, careful, thorough, deep, considered, and methodical. He had been a child burdened with these qualities, a child who overthought, a child who struggled to understand the world around him. He had questioned everything, a habit that others had perceived as a stigma, a weakness. He recalled the frustrating comments: "Stop, just stop, don't ask that!" and "Come on, I told you earlier, I won't tell you again!" and the mocking laughter: "Oh, you were the one who asked that silly question. How can you say that?" He had been labeled, judged, misunderstood.

He remembered the confusion that had plagued his early life, the constant cycle of approving and disapproving his own thoughts. He had felt unidentified, a five-year-old trapped in a world that didn't understand him. He had learned harsh lessons about life, lessons that went beyond simple words. He had learned that "GETTING LIFE LESSONS ARE NOT SOMETIMES ENOUGH; dealing with them, understanding them matters too."

His constant thinking, his greatest strength, had become his greatest weakness, morphing into overthinking. He remembered the plane, the turbulence, the panic of the passengers. He, a five-and-a-half-year-old, had been the voice of reason, reminding everyone, "YOU ALL SHOULD KNOW THAT WORDS ACTUALLY HELPS OUR MIND TO THINK, SPEAK WITH GOOD WORDS AND YOU'LL BE HAVING GOOD THOUGHTS, and at the same time if you'll scream and shout or speak bad it will not only make yourself frightened but the surroundings too. So please CALM DOWN." He had sung a song to break the tension, a simple, childlike act that had brought calm to a chaotic situation. He had even reminded his own mother, "O MY DEAR MOM IM KID NOT A CRIMINAL and you said something. let me remind you ..... we all need a break ...right?"

He had felt the weight of responsibility, the burden of understanding, even at that young age. He had felt the sting of judgment, the frustration of being misunderstood. He remembered the woman in his room who had mocked his curiosity, his need to understand. "I WAS BORN NOT SOWN," he had retorted, a simple statement that spoke volumes about his innate sense of self. He had overheard her snide remarks: "Oh you are asking me that now .... You are standing in front of a mirror with a help of footstool, you are already looking yourself in a mirror but you are not getting it...oh you minor comeon !" He had wished, in a moment of despair, "May I quickly pass my childhood."

But his journey to the haystack, his encounter with the old woman, had changed everything. He had learned that his curiosity was not a weakness, but a strength. He had learned that his questions were not a burden, but a gift. He had learned that he was not alone.

He remembered the old woman's words: "The light is a beacon. A signal. It appears to those who are searching, those who are asking questions… What is it that you truly desire? What is it that keeps you awake at night? … That is the question you must ask yourself… Understanding is not enough. You must also learn to accept. To accept the things that you cannot change."

He had asked himself those questions, deep within the hidden chamber, surrounded by the ancient artifacts. He had discovered the book, the scroll, and the stones, each one a piece of the puzzle. He had deciphered the code, unlocked the secrets, and found the crystal, a symbol of his own inner light. He had understood the message: His journey was not about finding answers; it was about finding himself.

He had returned to the rest house a changed child. He was no longer confused, no longer lost. He knew who he was. He was a seeker, a questioner, a learner. He was a child with a unique gift, a child who was ready to embrace his destiny.

He walked downstairs, a sense of peace and purpose filling him. His family was at breakfast, their faces lighting up when they saw him.

"Good morning," he said, his voice clear and confident.

"Good morning," they replied, their voices filled with warmth and love.

He sat down at the table, joining his family. He knew that his journey was just beginning. He had a lifetime of questions to ask, a lifetime of mysteries to explore. He was ready. He was finally ready. He was ready to follow the light.

As they finished breakfast, he looked at his family, a genuine smile gracing his lips. "So," he asked, his eyes sparkling with curiosity and anticipation, "where are we going to visit today? And when are we going back home from this vacation trip?"

His mother smiled, a warm, genuine smile that reflected the change she saw in him. "That's a wonderful question," she said, her voice filled with affection. "We were thinking of visiting the old fort today. It's supposed to have some amazing views of the valley. And as for going home," she paused, glancing at his father, "we were planning on staying a few more days, if you'd like. We can stay until the end of the week, if that suits you." She watched him, her eyes filled with a quiet understanding. "Does that sound good?"

He beamed, a genuine, heartfelt smile that reached his eyes. "The old fort sounds amazing!" he exclaimed, the earlier anxieties and confusions seeming to melt away like morning mist. "And staying longer? That's great! I'd really like that." He paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "There's still so much I want to explore here," he added, a hint of mystery in his voice. He didn't elaborate, but his family exchanged knowing glances. They understood, perhaps for the first time, that his "exploring" went beyond mere sightseeing. They saw the spark of curiosity, the thirst for knowledge that now defined him. "You know," he continued, a warm smile spreading across his face, "I think I'll always want to come back to this rest house, to this whole place, for our vacations. There's something… special about it. I just feel like I could discover something new every time I'm here." He paused, a thoughtful look in his eyes. "It feels… like home, somehow." "So, the old fort it is!" he concluded, a newfound confidence radiating from him.

The old fort, with its panoramic views, became a symbol of his own expanded horizons. He explored its ramparts and hidden corners, not just as a tourist, but as a seeker, recognizing the echoes of history and the whispers of untold stories. He shared his insights with his family, his observations no longer dismissed as childish musings, but valued as thoughtful perspectives. The rest of their vacation unfolded with a newfound harmony. He was no longer the misunderstood child, but an integral part of the family unit, his unique perspective enriching their shared experiences.

As they prepared to leave, a sense of bittersweet nostalgia settled over him. He knew he was leaving behind a place of profound personal growth. The rest house, the haystacks, the hidden chamber – they were more than just locations; they were milestones on his journey of self-discovery. He had faced his inner turmoil, confronted his anxieties, and emerged stronger, more confident, and more at peace with himself. He had found the answers not in the world around him, but within himself.

He looked at his family!

The journey back home was filled with a quiet contentment. He knew that the lessons he had learned, the discoveries he had made, would stay with him. He had found the light within himself, a beacon that would guide him on his path. He understood now that life wasn't about finding all the answers, but about embracing the questions, about learning, growing, and evolving. He was ready for whatever the future held, confident in his ability to navigate the complexities of life, to continue exploring, to continue learning, to continue growing. He was ready to follow his own light.