Sunday, December 06, 2009

tip toe...

There are two things that maketh a man. Travel and writing. As you pursue this paralell path, that intertwine all the time unlike the train track, you subtly open the windows to a world of wonder, as the secret chambers of a self-centric heart wakes up to the true passions of life. On the way you learn to have an observant eye, an alert mind, a radiant heart and discover that free spirit. 

After three years, I tip toed back into the passion called travel with my not-so-dirty shoes. Why had I not traveled? What was stopping me? Where was I? 

Nowhere. May be, I was self-indulgent in my own stupid ego around reams of paper in a concrete jungle and bound by the love of a few dotting girls at home. Self-inhibitions can be killing. This truth, you will keep discovering time and again. Till you take the time to travel. 

Without knowing, I subtly stepped into my travel canvas a few months ago. On quite a few enchanting journeys. I was back in the blue tube wearing my blue shoes treading varied landscapes, on the rickety buses to the mountain slopes and a couple of boat rides on the blue expanses. 

As usual, the rains unleashed the spirit for freedom. A valiant port renewed my vigour to life, then the rainforest embraced me in her lustless bosom, a silvery stream stitched a distraught soul, a church and choir sang lullabies in a garden city, an emeraldish bee eater in a paddy field reminded me of rare beauty, and a pelican in penance amidst million golden droplets on a high noon set me free. From my faintest of ego. 

Come, let's walk the path together. 

1 comment:

going with the wind said...

lush green writing aravind. there's beauty in your words that enriches parts deep within. so true about how we get caught up. i am trying to put myself on a dirt track too. just to ensure that the heart beats not competing with a billion others around...but to remind you that life is within as it is outside too.

Stories From The Soul Town

There lies a magical land. Surrounded by the green ghats to the west, gurgling great rivers on the east, the valley with the very blue sky. A temple town of the tamils. Sitting on the dancing rock on the highland overlooking the valley, the writer procreates the lives of the people of this lesser known south west. Full of strange yet simple souls.