It’s so surprising to see the similar state
of being alone having varied connotations for different individuals – One who
experience the pain in it calls it ‘Loneliness’ and the one who experience the
solace terms it as ‘Solitude’. And for the very few who figures in the later,
there is some inherent charm in those moments which makes them not only
bearable but also gratifying. That is what the magic of the solitary world is
all about. There is a parallel world inside which is devoid of any sophistications
and baggage of the external world making it as pure as ever.
“...the
natures of solitary people are apt to have more unmapped country in them than
worldly folk imagine. They see and think and do things peculiar to themselves,
and one may turn up buried treasure in them at any moment.” ~ Julian Hawthorne
We all constitute a minute part of the infinite
cosmos around; perhaps a tiny speck, an inconsequential tinge amidst the
colorful canvas that fills the outer world. But none of us are here without
purpose…there is a light that chases us and there is a light that we chase
through-out. And when these two lights converge, life gets its meaning. My
thoughts and heart always find themselves wandering in this limitless cosmos (hence the blog’s name - Musings of a Wandering Heart) chasing one light or the other in that band of spectrum, contemplating
after and while as to which light is mine and to which tinge I belong. There is
so much that’s churning within creating endless ripples of thoughts which form one
moment and disappear the other, leaving behind the sensation that remains for
long.
This
new section of the blog "Chronicles of a Solitary Soul" is an attempt to assimilate those wandering thoughts &
notions, nurturing them with the manure of words to let them blossom through
into full bloom. More than that it is actually an attempt to discover and
preserve those sentiments which do get lost like me in the chaos and pandemonium
around.
The moment I step out of my house in the morning,
all that I can see is the rushing of faces each in a bit to outsmart the other,
to outshine the other. Everywhere there is a mad race with people running here
and there to achieve something material. Out of the house onto the roads, there
is constant honking of cars not having tiniest of the patience, to get that
stretch of road where it can run free of traffic – not realizing that their
constant blowing is silencing the chirping of cricket, the fluttering of the
wind and symphony of the nature. Consequently, no one actually pays any heed to
any of this phenomenon which deserve more than fair share of person’s attention.
Or is it the other way around, the price of being impatient comes to those
folks in form of deprivation from witnessing these miracles.
The purpose of their running is not to lead
but to leave the other person behind. The world out is really fast paced with
the common notion “If you stop, you trail”. Result, no one really has the time to
halt and see the beauty, feel the serenity and experience the un-experienced. And
the poor souls like me tend to feel lost in this jungle every now & then making
me feel an alien out of this world (I still wonder as whether it’s the world
which is running too fast or me who is running too slow).
“And then the vicious
circle begins – Begin the journey with the crowd, get lost in the jungle, introspect
down the memory lane to search, find a bit of me in the memories kindled, receive
nudge from my present, find myself again amidst the crowd, again begin the
journey and again get lost in the jungle.”
And then I contemplate in retrospection, remembering
those good old days when the pleasure would simply unfold itself in small little
acts. Seeing birds flying in the sky used to fill the heart with much of abundance
and soothe; running after them sometimes to chase, sometimes to better and
sometimes just to fly them away, would culminate with the series of laughter. There
I find a bit of myself in the echoes of that laughter which remains even long after
the laugh has died.
Those brief breaks during the cricketing
sessions and lying flat on the ground gazing at the light blue sky with cold
sweat drenching through the body & the heart pounding furiously fast. That sudden
moo from cows attracting my attention and the curiosity aroused while witnessing
them ruminating calmly with peculiar movement of the mouth nodding its head sporadically
as if enjoying sparing my thought. There again a bit of myself is traced in that
curiosity that springs up in the heart and bear innocent smile on the face.
Those constant stare in the moon kissed sky
wondering about the millions of the stars winking at me as if to stupefy me
with their shine and glitter. And the search for the constellations and creating
different shapes from the stars which appears like shining pennies scattered in
a dark well – glittering and luring; and not to forget that feeling of
victorious pride when some of the times that ‘special’ Pole Star gets spotted.
There lies another portion of mine in those moments spent glancing up the sky and
bringing bewilderment on the face.
Those shower in the rains in whatsoever
season they pour and playing with the raindrops as they complete their long
journey from the water filled clouds to the thirsty crust of the earth. And then
jumping on the water cluttered on roads ‘chapaaaaaak’,
the moment someone comes near it. . .and that puddle play on a rainy day. . .
and that intoxicated aroma of wet soil, just after the first rain of the
season. There again I find some bit of me in those tiny droplets and amidst
that aroma which rinse the dirtiest of the mark on the soul. And the list is just
endless with the pleasure being limitless.
The muse, then, takes me to those best-loved
movies of mine, watching which would transpose me to the different world of dreams,
the dreams some broken, some intact, some fresh, some forgotten and some
half-asleep. The journey to the world of dreams is the most satisfying
experience to anyone and when these have caressed and fostered with so much of passion
since existence, this engulfs with a feeling of salvation. There are, then, those
warmly preserved pieces of writings, the pages of which contain a portion of me
embodying those unfulfilled aspirations and un-quenched desires in those loving
characters and sequences which I keep on reading and re-reading. And each time
these oblige me with the same sense of freshness and gratification as they did
when I first acquainted with them. There I again find some more of me in that
world of my dreams and thoughts devoid of any rules where my unfulfilled aspirations
are met and where my un-quenched desires are allayed.
The beauty of the thoughts is
such that the more solace you discover in them, the deeper and deeper they
penetrate within you. That unbridled horse then takes you to all those silent memories
which have been, knowingly or unknowingly, preserved carefully in that hidden
corner of the heart. While the search for the self in the memory lane continue
to entice me, the sudden nudge of realization pulls me back from those blissful
thoughts to this crowd buzzing with all sort of activities…where I, again, gear
myself for the next sprint I would undertake only to find myself standing (yet
again) in the middle of the nowhere wondering yet again – where is my light,
where is my heart, where are my thoughts…the vicious circle yet again plays the
mischief.
~Shubh Life . . . Om Sai Ram
© 2015 Manish Purohit
(Reserved)
~ Linking back to Write Tribe
No comments:
Post a Comment
Its all about sharing life's snippets here at Musings of a Wandering Heart. . . Your thoughts on the post are awaited & would be highly appreciated.
Do provide your comments & visit again as all effort would be made to respond to your message :)