Looking at the beauty of the dried-up forest stream, he turned his eyes towards the single-track path. He sensed something moving among the bushes. He looked down again. A young man with a spear in his hand was walking towards him.
Arjunan could not see the young man's face, only his speed. The young man passed Arjunan and continued walking. He had no time to stop and talk. He asked while walking:
"May I know who you are?"
Arjunan looked at him, blinking. He wondered if the young man would disappear before he could answer. He raised his voice and said:
"I am Arjunan."
"I didn't ask for your name. I asked who you are!"
The wind blew against Arjunan, making him stumble. His heart told him that the wind was not the reason for his stumble.
"Are you from the tribe of musicians?" the young man asked, continuing his walk. It was difficult for Arjunan to look at the young man, walk on the path, and answer the question.
"No... Musicians sing songs. They are artists. I am a poet, a writer."
As soon as he finished speaking, the young man asked another question:
"What is writing?"
How can one have a conversation in such a long distance on a path that climbs a mountain?
His breath refused to cooperate with him to speak in a loud voice. But Arjunan spoke loudly:
"Have you ever seen a tree painted as a picture?"
"Yes, I have seen many trees painted on the cave walls."
"Similarly, writing is painting the sounds we speak."
The young man's pace slowed down. Arjunan realized that he was thinking. Arjunan felt that he could draw him closer.
"What is your name?"
"Mathiazhagan."
Arjunan said, "Come here, I will show you." He bent down and picked up a dry stick lying on the ground. The young man came closer. Arjunan wrote his name on the ground with the stick.
Seeing this, the young man smiled and said, "Am I like a fly that is stuck in an elephant's dung?"
The wind blew again, making Arjunan stumble. Mathiazhagan was walking fast. Arjunan began to admire him. His speed, his tight physique, his unique agility, his small eyes, the questions that arose from his heart, and the spear in his hand... How fast would it move if he threw it? Arjunan thought. He decided to start the conversation in this short time. "Are you married?" he asked.
"No... It will happen soon. I am going to see her."
"Where is she?"
"Her hut is behind that mountain."
"Behind that mountain?" The length of the sound conveyed his surprise.
"Do you go there every day?"
"I go twice a day. Sometimes I come here twice a day."