Synchronicity

Weather in the first week of September still carried traces of July.

The mornings were calm. The afternoons arrived with rain and shadows.

No clarity at all.

They began the day with the scorching sun in their heads. After finding a place to stay, they settled into themselves and began dukha sukha ko guff.

One shared a song he had recently composed. Another spoke about his life in the unit.

One had become remarkably observant. The other remained mostly silent, occasionally offering bits of unexpected humour.

His humour hadn’t changed. If anything, it had grown more subtle.

Humour was something everyone in the group possessed. Some were quick and reactive; others arrived slowly and ran deep.

On the way back, I sat in the rear seat.

Out of nowhere, the conversation drifted towards repeating numbers—11:11, 2:22, and the strange frequency with which they had been appearing lately.

I remembered Sadhguru’s take on it:

There are only nine digits, so repetition is inevitable. Yet life does possess a certain cohesiveness. Synchronicity does happen, if one is receptive enough—but it should not be overdone in the mind.

The other two listened quietly while Save Your Tears played in the background.

A few moments later, the driver pointed towards a brown Bolero that had joined the road ahead.

We looked.

Its number plate read:

SK05P5555

For a moment, nobody said anything.

Was that a sync?