Many years have passed since the great space exodus, yet the echoes of that desperate journey still linger in the hearts of those who witnessed it. What unfolded during those days was both awe-inspiring and tragic—a tale of survival, longing, and the unbreakable pull of home. Even now, as we recount those moments, it feels as vivid as if it happened just yesterday.
Fading Footsteps in the Stars: Memories of a Distant Home
The silence of the moon felt heavier than usual. The news of the lockdown had sent ripples through the lunar colonies, and now, after the epidemic’s peak had passed, the real crisis had begun—an exodus unlike anything ever recorded in human history.
Dr. Aryan Verma sat by the large observation window of his lunar residence, watching Earth glow like an unreachable paradise in the infinite void. His wife, Meera, prepared synthetic tea in the small kitchenette, her movements betraying her unease. Avni and Ansh, their children, were unusually quiet, their young minds trying to process the chaotic events unfolding around them.
“Papa, why do they all want to go back?” Ansh finally asked, his small fingers tracing the edges of his space tablet. The news was filled with images of people struggling to leave the moon—some walking in space suits, others desperately clinging to the undersides of cargo shuttles.
“Because home is not just a place,” Aryan said, choosing his words carefully. “It’s a feeling, a memory, a deep pull of the heart. When everything feels uncertain, people want to be where they feel safe—even if the journey is dangerous.”
Meera sighed, placing a steaming cup in front of Aryan. “But Earth isn’t safe either. The lockdowns, the instability, the shortages… What are they really running towards?”
Avni, who had been scrolling through her holographic news feed, interrupted. “Some say the lunar government’s food and shelter aid isn’t reaching everyone. Others just don’t trust the system anymore. And then, some… they just miss the rivers, the wind, the real sky.”
Aryan took a sip of his tea, his mind wandering to the hundreds of patients he had treated in the last few weeks. The space epidemics had taken many lives, but this mass migration posed an even greater threat. With lunar travel restrictions still in place, desperate citizens were attempting the impossible—crossing space on foot.
The Walkers of Space
On the dark side of the moon, where government patrols were less frequent, clusters of people had begun their perilous journey toward Earth. Wearing outdated anti-gravity boots and cheap oxygen suits, they carried whatever food and water they could afford. Many had secured nano-oxygen capsules, hoping they would last the journey.
Aryan had seen them firsthand. Some of his old patients, mostly laborers and low-income workers, had bid him farewell with solemn faces. “Doctor sahib, we can’t stay here,” one had told him. “Better to die trying than wait for starvation.”
As the family watched the newsfeed, a shocking report came in—space migrants begging outside floating restaurants, their resources exhausted. Some had perished along the way, lost to the heat of the sun or frozen in the cold void. The most heart-wrenching cases were those who mistook abandoned space railway tracks as resting spots, only to be caught unaware when a high-speed shuttle approached.
An Unexpected Guest
That evening, as the family sat in quiet contemplation, their home alert system chimed. Someone was at their door.
Aryan opened it to find a young woman, her space suit tattered, her face pale from exhaustion. She clutched a small oxygen capsule in her trembling hands. Behind her stood a man, possibly her husband, supporting an unconscious child.
“Please… help us,” she whispered before collapsing.
Without hesitation, Aryan and Meera carried them inside. As a veterinarian, Aryan had limited experience with human medicine, but necessity made one adapt. With Avni’s help, he stabilized the unconscious child while Meera fetched energy supplements for the woman and her husband.
After some time, the woman stirred. “We tried to walk to Earth,” she murmured. “We… we thought we could make it.”
Aryan exchanged a glance with Meera. “How many others are out there?”
“Thousands,” the man croaked. “Some turned back. Some were caught by the patrols. Others… we don’t know.”
The Refugee Crisis in Space
In the days that followed, Aryan found himself involved in an underground effort to help stranded migrants. Some private space transporters had begun smuggling desperate travelers inside their cargo holds for exorbitant prices, evading the watchful eyes of the space administration. Meanwhile, a few innovative workers had created anti-gravity bicycles, allowing for a slightly faster and less exhausting journey through the void.
The lunar government had promised free shelter and rations, but the reality was starkly different. Aid distribution was chaotic, and corruption ran deep. The powerful hoarded supplies while the weak scavenged for survival. Together, Many people lost their jobs, and among them, many could never regain their lost employment.
One night, as Aryan sat in his clinic, a government official visited him.
“Dr. Verma,” the man said gravely, “We know you’ve been helping these people.”
Aryan tensed but met the man’s gaze steadily. “I’m a doctor. It’s my duty to help.”
The official sighed. “Look, I understand. But the situation is more complicated than you think. If too many people leave the moon at once, it’ll disrupt the entire interplanetary economy. We need stability.”
Aryan’s jaw tightened. “Stability for whom?”
The official had no answer. He simply handed Aryan a small data chip. “This is a list of people who have been granted emergency travel permits. If you know anyone eligible, tell them to register.”
As the man left, Aryan looked at the chip in his hand. It was something, but not enough.
The Mystic Wanderer
One evening, as Aryan walked the lunar surface, he came across an old sage-like figure meditating under the vast emptiness of space. The man, dressed in flowing robes unsuitable for lunar conditions, seemed unbothered by his surroundings.
Aryan approached cautiously. “Aren’t you cold?”
The man opened his eyes, revealing an unsettling depth of wisdom. “Cold and heat are illusions, my son. Just as life and death are.”
Something in Aryan stirred. “Do you believe these people will make it back to Earth?”
The sage smiled. “Those who truly need to return, will. Others… are meant to find a new home elsewhere.”
Aryan exhaled. “And what about me? I was never meant to be here.”
The sage chuckled. “And yet, here you are. The universe places us exactly where we need to be.”
With that, the old man closed his eyes again, dissolving into deep meditation as if he had merged with the cosmos itself.
A Decision
Back at home, Meera and the children awaited Aryan’s return. He entered, placing the data chip on the table. “We can help a few people leave. But we can’t save them all.”
Meera placed a hand over his. “But we will do what we can.”
Avni and Ansh nodded. They were just children, but they understood something profound—that in an unfair universe, kindness was the only true rebellion.
And so, under the artificial glow of the lunar domes, as the Earth continued to call its lost children home, the Verma family made their choice. They would help those they could, and for the rest, they would offer something just as precious—hope.
Though years have passed, the memories of that space exodus remain etched in the hearts of those who lived through it. The desperate footsteps across the void, the silent cries for help, the flickering hope in the darkness—each moment lingers like a distant echo, never fully fading. Some reached home, some found new destinies among the stars, and some were lost forever in the endless abyss. But one truth remains unshaken: no matter how far we travel, the call of home never truly leaves us. It is the pull of the familiar, the embrace of belonging, the whisper of the past that still finds us, even in the vast silence of space.
Demystifying Kundalini 