Shortly after Abrar Hassan—also known as "Wildlens By Abrar"—left Pakistan and began his journey to Japan, I found myself eagerly awaiting each of his video uploads.

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Since I knew that the timing of his videos didn't always accurately reflect his actual location, I also began following his Instagram account.

Then, one day, at the end of October last year, I came across an Instagram Story saying Abrar was heading to Singapore's Changi Airport for a Chinese visa adjustment. Coincidentally, I, too, was scheduled to pass through Changi Airport that very day on my way back to Japan—and due to my layover timing, I'd be spending several hours there.

"What if I could meet him..." I thought to myself and sent him a message with faint hope. Of course, someone as popular as him wasn't likely to respond.

Still, I kept my eyes peeled for him at the airport with no chance of sighting him. A few days later, I saw a Story post showing him meeting a fan there—and just seeing that made me strangely happy.

At the time, I couldn't have imagined that more than six months later, such an unexpected turn of events would be waiting for me.

After that, perhaps because I was a Japanese follower living in India—a combination that may have seemed rare to him—he occasionally responded to my messages. Of course, as a traveller with fans around the world, there was no reason for him to engage in personal communication with someone like me. And yet, even those occasional short replies encouraged me more than I can describe.

Later, due to various circumstances, he didn't head directly to Japan but instead went to Bangkok, Thailand. In December, he shipped his beloved motorcycle, Rangeeli, to Japan—and the journey was temporarily paused.

Finally, in mid-April, he posted a photo of his flight ticket to Japan on his Stories.

Since I was also planning a short return to Japan at the end of the month, I messaged him again to ask if he might stop by Fukuoka. To my surprise, for the first time, I received a clear response: he was indeed planning to visit Fukuoka.

After overcoming several hurdles, he finally began his motorcycle journey across Japan.

Earlier this month, by sheer coincidence, I was in Osaka at the same time he held a fan meetup in Dotonbori. Summoning my courage, I spoke to him in my broken German.

"If you happen to come to Fukuoka while I'm there, I'd love to see you again. If you'd like… would you come to my mother's house? It's in the countryside, but…"

He nodded with those familiar, bright, intense eyes of his. Still, I took it as a polite gesture and didn't let myself expect too much.

After that, I flew to Thailand. And just before returning to India, I made a stop in Fukuoka.

While we were in Thailand, Abrar made a brief stop in Fukuoka—but he soon boarded a ferry to Korea. "I'll be back in Fukuoka in 10 days," he had said, and I clung to those words, quietly hoping to see him again.

Then, the evening before yesterday, he posted a Story showing the platform at Hakata Station—an all-too-familiar sight to me.
The timing was unexpected, but I messaged him right away. It turned out he was in the neighbouring town, just a stone's throw from my mother's house.

Worried that he might be struggling to find accommodation (though it turned out he was staying with a friend), I shared my WhatsApp number and went to sleep that night.

The next morning, I woke to a message from Abrar:
"Could you send me your address?"

My heart nearly stopped.

He was supposed to arrive around 11 a.m., so I told a Punjabi friend of mine who lives in Fukuoka—and who is also a fan of Abrar's videos—"He's coming to my mom's place!" She replied, "If possible, bring him to me, too—I'd love to meet him!"

Since Abrar is Punjabi from the Pakistani side, I thought, "Wouldn't it be fascinating for his videos if he could meet someone Punjabi from the Indian side, here in Japan?" So I messaged him: "After you leave my place, shall we meet her for lunch in Hakata?" Naturally, I didn't receive a response right away. Looking back, he was intent on seeing what a 'Japanese home' was like.

I waited along the national highway near my mother's house for about 30 minutes after 11 a.m., but he didn't appear.
Then I checked my phone and saw a message from him: "Please don't wait outside in this heat. I forgot something and had to go back to Hakata to get it."

So I started thinking—maybe we could meet at Hakata Station for lunch, then he could come over afterwards… It was right around lunchtime, and my friend would be free, too. At that point, I didn't even know if he was travelling by motorcycle or train.

He had said, "I'll contact you as soon as I leave the hotel," so I replied, "I'll wait about 15 minutes, then I'll leave," though I ended up waiting a bit longer before heading out.

When I arrived at the nearest station to my mother's house and parked, I checked my phone— There it was: a message from Abrar, sent 20 minutes earlier.

"I'm in front of your house."

For a moment, time stopped.

A flood of thoughts rushed through my mind. We had taken the national highway—maybe he took the prefectural road instead. Such a tiny difference in route, and we'd passed each other by a hair's breadth.

My head was spinning with anxiety.

Then came another message, like a final blow:

"I'm sorry for the trouble I caused you because of my mistake. I'm heading to Hiroshima now. Let's meet again—somewhere, someday."

I couldn't let it end like that.

With trembling fingers, I quickly typed out a message: "If you're still nearby, I'll be waiting at the nearest station."

And sure enough, a few minutes later—
When I spotted a rider approaching from afar, all the tension left my body at once.

My mother, who had watched Abrar's videos with me and had been looking forward to meeting him too, probably wouldn't have minded if he came straight to the house. But I couldn't bear the thought of making my hero experience a confusing, awkward situation just because of me.

There was no café near the station where we could sit and talk, so we stood and chatted for a short while. And yet, in that little time, I felt an unexpected sense of comfort—like I was seeing a long-lost friend I had known for years.

That may be because I had seen him on screen almost every day. But this wasn't a screen. He was right in front of me—Abrar, in real life.

Just once, I found myself quietly inhaling the faint scent of travel that clung to his rider jacket— And I let it fill my lungs. That may make me weird. But that scent carried the hours and the dust of the world he had passed through, and I didn't want to forget it.

This time, we were able to talk properly in English. We spoke about the countries he'd visited, his upcoming adventure through the Americas, and behind-the-scenes moments not shown in his videos. We also talked candidly about what we liked—and didn't—about Pakistan, India, Germany, and Japan.

It felt like a dream. Even now, I can't believe we grew so close in just a matter of minutes. But for me, it was one of the most vivid and precious moments of my life.

It was barely 30 minutes. But that moment—when I got to have my favourite superhero all to myself—is something I'll treasure forever.

I'm such a big fan that sometimes I even message him in German to keep myself from writing overly long messages. Even so, what still lingers in my heart is the one thing I didn't say this time— "Salaam Alaikum"— like I did in Osaka.

But my prayers will be answered. I hope Abrar's upcoming journey across the Americas is safe, meaningful, and full of unforgettable encounters. And I hope he'll continue to share the world through his eyes with us in the form of beautiful travel stories.

And though I know it's a presumptuous wish, I still daydream— Maybe, just maybe, when I stop in Tokyo for a few nights before heading back to India, he might be there, too. And we could meet again.
For the third time.