Skip to main content

A journey that leads you home.


Some journeys don't take you to places, these are journeys that take you closer to your inner self. A self which has been there waiting for you since always, a self that is there to hold you after you bring home pain . This is where the journey leads you to. You meet people in this journey, people who would walk in, stay and leave and in between you would have no consideration for your inner self, you get caught by the ways of the world. You get swayed with the idea of being a metaphor in someone else's life. Until one fine day, as you wake up you find your long forgotten inner soul triumphing over the return of its native: bruised and shaken to the core. It tries to bring you back to who you used to be.

But, there is a but to all of these, how meaningful is life without people who shake you to your core? Even if it means death, we must meet people who carry a key to our locked soul. People who make you aware of the possibilities, the threshold where you survive without exploding. They make your heart burn but they also teach you to hold onto your 'light'. They bring you home to whatever you chose to not believe in, thinking the world would never expand for you. They help you create different worlds, yet, they ensure that these worlds don't collide.

Consider this as you read, years from now when you in your mellow years, would be squatting by the kitchen fire reproducing an odd recepie you learnt from one of the people whom you desperately wanted to stay with you but had left as life demanded him to keep rolling, you would more than be relieved to hold onto that odd recepie which now makes you a champion at  home. You realise, you no longer hate him for walking away, you no longer are damaged. You have managed to keep the good that you could out of that journey which was short lived.

A journey can mean that you are left broken like that old clock which no longer chimes or a dusty telegram long forgotten, a music note that is rarely sung or a writer's pen whose ink has dried. It may mean danger or something equally beautiful or who knows something dangerous-yet-beautiful.

I took my risk to plunge into this journey, did you?



Comments

Popular posts from this blog

"My love is enough for both of us"

"My love is enough for both of us", she often felt those words ring in her heart. She finally had understood that life wouldn't always follow her designs. That people are meant to leave but their memories won't. She often had wondered how someone could love her to such an extent when that person had always known that she wouldn't reciprocate those feelings. How could a person stand by her when she always acted as a fleeting shadow. She never had given hope for she knew the pain of dejection but he kept hoping like a hopeless vagabond. How she wished that he would some day hate her enough to let go. She devised ways to free him from this web, she acted cold, turned indifferent, did everything he detested and she finally saw some changes. It was a relief, he finally seemed to take hold of his life. She could see him grow responsible. He finally it seemed was learning to love himself. Phone calls died, meetings subsided, they become known strangers. All this while ...

Life on wheels

The one thing that I always had dreamt of as a kid was to have a caravan that could take me to places.I always wanted a gypsy styled life. The idea itself mesmerized me to the extent that I kept dreaming of it the whole time not even realising how it was time which kept on rolling but I stood exactly at the same place, my dreams could never concretize. What was laughed at as a childish game was so important to me that I keep doodling it in my memory till now. I see a meadow, lush green with those small daffodils growing by, perhaps Wordsworth's daffodils! Then I see a girl, her wild unkept hair sailing in the gentle breeze. She has a smile which speaks of solitude, and her heart , well that's swelling with happiness as he looks at her caravan, after all she finally has a life on wheels. What more could she wish for, what more  can anyone wish for? It's not always that we get to live a life we conceived as a kid, life keeps on deciding our track. From what we liked doing...

The dead old tree

As I walked on the road unaware of where the world was headed towards, something caught my attention. It was a dead tree standing erect by the road. What interested me was the way it had been dying a slow death whereas the world around him was yet so green. My eyes lingered towards it's branches, there I saw leaves caught in transition, they were neither green to contain life nor brown to talk of despair. The colour was a shade of yellow with specks of dull green . Did the green in them yet had hope to continue being alive? I asked myself. Then I saw something which moved my heart for the tree, it was home to birds. Little chirpy birds seeked shelter in its dead trunk. How strange life could be, that tree housed life yet couldn't forsee it's end. A cool morning breeze made its dry branch rattle and one of its branches snapped. I could see a man hurry past the road. Before I could actually take hold of what was happening, I saw him drag that branch along with him and my mi...