Thoughts From The Door of a Train.
Trees and mustard plantations flash by , as fast as, memories of a forbidden kiss from a lost lovers do, in my mind. I am stagnant here, as scenes and stories rush by , with nothing but a glimpse presented to me. My mind sometimes procrastinate what things could have been , if I peeked more into the scenes. Just like what more could have been, only had I decided to stay.
It is of no surprise, that a human heart, mostly connects to things it has lost. It's our beauty and curse , that we seek tragedy in our natural existences, may be.
The tiny houses in cluster at the far, and people with colourful dresses near in the fields look upon me, without ever seeing me, actually. I see them , faceless , just like dots and lines drawn in a fast moving photograph. There herds of livestock relaxed , shapelessly lying across the great greens.
The people living or existing.
My mind urges to ask what do they see from those fields?
All they see may be is a bleak existence on a huge serpent running across iron trails. That must be how trains and people standing on them looks like.
May be they think , where are we off to. And some of them surely dream of going away too, a cold wanderlust, hopelessly hammering in their mind. How useless they might feel , knowing they can't do that at the exact moment. Same as I felt when I wanted to tell someone how much I love them , yet did not.
My mind play games, unwanted to my heart, yet in totality we must endure. A soothing sense prevails, as the sunset sky takes over.
Sunsets are beautiful everywhere , just like a baby's laughter and a warm hug. From the rushing train , it looks like a ball of orange fixed upon you. Everything is moving , coming from future moving to past , but the two you stay in their places. The promise of being together for once justified.
The scenes are magical , every blunt landscape catches a reddish hue. The color of life absorbs everything all around . Suddenly there is no grief , there is nothing missing , no lacking. There is no thoughts in the mind, a complete silence.
Just the canvas universe has painted upon, and my eyes fixed at it. The brain , heart and soul has come together, silent and meditating in this magic that follows for sometime.
But just like everyone and everything, soon betrayal takes it place. The color slowly evades , just like death takes over life. The orange ball giving optimism changed golden, only to be vanishing second by second. It's illuminated sphere from the bottom half mixes with the grey sky. Before you put your mind into it, accept the laws of existence, it disappears. The ball is almost hidden by trees and forest that line up the horizon. Without saying a proper goodbye , it just vanishes.
May be it is truly hard to say good bye, for there is no good in it. More so when you love someone.
Personal Views written on my train journey from Kolkata to Delhi Feb 12 , 2020.
Kindly keep an eye on my space as I write my thoughts on my life as a wanderer and tour guide. If you connect to what I write , kindly contact me and let me know how you feel.
How sad it is , that we forget the things once we loved so hard. Or is it just human to be so. Every year we fall in love with people and places , only to make memories and then leave them behind. We do it , out of intention or context out of our control , I know not.
We go back again to new places , fall in love in newer stories , but we are never the same as the person we did it first time.
May be the magic doesn't diminish , but it does change. And change may be is not so bad after all.
The first time I went so up close to Himalayas on a trek, I lost myself all. And with every step I took , I gave away parts of me , that I could never found , even after taking thousands of journeys back to the mountains again.
It is the same with everyone who takes the first step walking into the Himalayas. Every time , I take people for the first time in mountains, they have a different hue. Some come back , some do not , yet none of them come back like they did the first time.
Every corner you turn, you are mesmerized by the high mountains that spear through sky. Your eyes limit your vision but your soul takes you to the deepest places. You imagine how it might be on those ridges, on those tops that are blurry to your eyes.
You forget you have a name , a identity, all you are today is a creature in love with the most divine. You know you were meant to be here. Every moment you grow into your feelings, like there is no tomorrow and there was no yesterday. You are one with everything around here , today.
You don't categorize yourself in certain boxes that human laws and interpretation created. You don't remember your goals or any intention to be anything more than what you are here. For you don't need to reach anywhere anymore, you are just content and complete. You are beautiful and silent in your wholeness , just like the Giants standing in front of you.
But just like life , moments come to pass. You revert back to your sane , mature mind. You follow the rules specified to keep this world in terms. You have to end this journey, go back to where you are normal. We can't be divine, we can't be ecstatic , we can't be forever in love. Can we?
You console yourself, trying to see things that really pull you back from the mountains. The good in the bad that you left behind.
You console yourself, that you will be back here soon. Like the last day of our school , how we say we will always be in touch.
It's a promise to yourself. Knowing you were never good on promises , just like any of our species. All this, just to let go of that moment where you felt complete.
You go back , suffering in the fever of reminiscent, flashes of what had been cropping up in your mind. The photographs and conversations , adding fuel to the fire. But you're sensible , you control , fake your soul into believing this is normal. You have a life , a identity to live, people who love you waiting for you back there.
There is no other choice. That's the way the world works. Yet why do you feel a lump in your throat, a heavy heart unspoken.
A month pass , you don't think of it that much anymore. You feel no pang of what you left behind. Like a dream we wake up from and never remember the details , the moments lived on the mountains, pass.
It doesn't disturb anymore to think about it, and you don't even force yourself to think of it. It's just there, like all other places and people that you once loved and left behind.
I guess it is a good for a thing, isn't it? For if we never did that and stayed back where our heart felt home , we would hurt so many of us that loved us.
A many of broken souls , hide well behind the words they wrote.
So tell me , how does it feel to let go ?
Note from the Author,
" Travel made me rich and free. Magic and miracles are true , once you wander on the roads to places different and divine. I have collected so many thoughts and stories while being a Tour & Trek guide for last seven years. Sharing with you all, those memories and stories , and wishing you all , that someday you guys travel far and wide too. I am not a great writer , so ignore my grammar and spellings, read it with feelings, and you might just be affected with the wanderlust to hit the road"