On a quiet afternoon, when the sky looked pale and the wind carried the smell of dust and rain, Aarav found an old map inside his grandfather's wooden trunk. The map was yellow with age, and its corners were torn, but red lines marked many places across the country. Mountains, rivers, and small villages were drawn carefully with faded ink.
Aarav's grandfather had once been a traveler, or so his grandmother said. He never talked much about his journeys, but he always smiled when he looked at old photographs of unknown lands. Aarav stared at the map for a long time. Something inside him stirred, like a bird trapped in a cage. He felt a sudden desire to see the world beyond his small town.
That night, Aarav packed a small bag. He took a notebook, a pen, a bottle of water, and his grandfather's compass. Before leaving, he wrote a note to his family:
"I am not running away. I am going to discover who I am."
The first destination on the map was a small hill town called Silver Ridge. The bus journey was long and bumpy. Outside the window, fields slowly changed into forests, and forests turned into winding mountain roads. Clouds floated so close that Aarav felt he could touch them.
When he reached Silver Ridge, the town welcomed him with cool air and the smell of pine trees. Houses were painted in bright colors, and prayer flags danced in the wind. A kind old woman gave him tea and asked about his journey. Aarav told her about the map, and she smiled mysteriously.
"Every traveler carries two maps," she said. "One on paper, and one in the heart."
That night, Aarav slept under a sky full of stars. He felt small, yet strangely powerful. The world was wide, and he had taken his first step into it. He did not know what awaited him next, but he knew one thing clearly: this journey was not just about places. It was about becoming someone new.