Sunday, December 26, 2010


We devise our own expedients, to cope when the going gets tough. Most of the times, when circumstances permit, I prefer to do a (slightly revised) Scarlett O’Hara and just leave, for some place hilly, quiet and peaceful. More often than not, it proves to be a better option than losing myself into the quagmire of ensuing emotions.
Maybe it’s a kind of escapism, but going away serves the most imperative purpose and that is, distance. For me it is vital. Because when I create that distance from the recurring cycle of events that seem to have become some kind of karmic wheel in my life- that of the past and present overlapping each other-it gives me ample amount of peace to think, recollect, resurrect, and breathe.
Often the idea to shuck off the old life, just like the snakes shed their skin, and acquire a new life haunts nearly all of us at some point of time. How wonderful to be able to get lost in some insulated obscurity.
One evening, during one of these excursions, I was walking through the winding paths under a leafy avenue and this thought grew in proportions.
Something shifted inside me with the recollection,and I felt dizzy. I decided to sit on a nearby iron bench that stood under an old deodar tree. As I sat, ignoring the sudden damp chill of the bench, my eyes fell on the trunk of the tree. Many messages of devotion, pledges of undying love, and 'yours forever' promises, were scribbled on the gnarled trunk of that tree by lovers who had passed through this trail. I was about to turn my head when something caught my glance. Down below the trunk, where the latticed backrest of the iron bench had almost obscured the inscription, was something that made me peer closer. Instead of the usual ‘Rani loves Mohit’ with the ubiquitous heart and an arrow pierced through it, someone had scrawled.

Wherever You Go, There You Are.

It stopped me in my tracks. Well, literally. The mist began to dispel slowly from the foggy landscapes of my mind and I felt as if I was watching a new sunrise somewhere in a distant horizon.


Last night you wrote your sonnets in  Braille: the commas, parenthesis, ellipses engraved perfectly on my skin- and  I  ...