--- Whispers of the Next Life ✍️ by Vijay Sharma Erry I asked myself one evening, beside the burning lamps of the Ganga, If I could be born again, what form would I choose? Some dreamt of claws and roars, some of wings to conquer the sky, others wished to return as kings, to rule what they could not in this life. But my heart whispered softly— be the wind. The wind belongs to no one, yet touches everyone. It slips through palaces and prisons alike, carrying secrets from the lips of children to the ears of mountains. As the wind, I could soothe a fevered brow, lift the sails of a weary fisherman, scatter the seeds of trees into barren earth, and still return at night to sing outside my mother’s window. The wind knows no borders. It is not chained by skin or creed, not torn by history’s wounds. It dances in deserts, hums through forests, and plays upon the oceans like a flute upon the lips of God. If reincarnation is true, let me be that invisible traveler. If it is not, then let me live this life as though my breath itself were a song of freedom— a breeze that carries love beyond the edge of time. For I do not long to conquer. I do not long to reign. I only long to be remembered as a whisper that touched hearts, a wind that never stopped moving, a soul that returned again and again— not to escape, but to connect. So when the final page of my story closes, and the world asks, Who will you be in the next life? I will smile and say, I am already becoming the wind. ---