Dusty Roads
ABSTRACT POST WARNING :: might put sleepyheads to sleep ;)
Walking down these dusty roads is an experience by itself. The billowing wind, the parched land, the hardened weathered faces looking curiously at a stranger walking down that road. The road that starts from nowhere and leads nowhere. The road that epitomises the joy of journey without beginning and without destination. Why am I on it? There just by the side I see this snazzy road with neon lights, glowing bulbs, the party district whose intensity is only overshadowed by the even more glowing party people with their shimmering dresses, electronic billboards, the blaring sounds and the hustle and bustle of the new generation as nattily dressed people flit about. And yet there is a darkness that sort of envelops this road, the night fog descends and visibility is reduced. A brooding silence hangs around the road. Not for this road, the bright lights and the loud sounds. A few minutes on that road and I start getting comfortable again. I havent been here in a while. I see a few familiar faces and many new ones. The regulars sort of recognize and communicate their greetings with a small sign of the hand that speaks volumes. Words are not needed between kindred.
You see little pockets of people huddled around a small fire, wearing capes and hoods to keep out the cold. Most of them are meeting each other for the first time and will probably never meet again and yet they connect like old friends. They are exchanging stories and experiences with each other. Each story means different things to different people and yet it all sort of falls into place.
I keep walking and soon I see her. It doesnt come as a surprise. I have seen her quite a few times and know her from outside the road. We speak in the way only we can. This however isnt the time to stop. Again no words are needed. Communication pathways are established, messages transferred and acknowledged with minimal movement.
Moving on I reach the final outpost and find them waiting for me. I expected more to come but the toil and labour of daily life has taken its toll. Quite a few have fallen by the wayside no longer frequenting these dilapilated haunts. I take off my pack, settle onto the floor, and we all pore over maps ancient. We chalk out plans, check our provisions and its time to move. From this point onwards there is no road, the only road is the one you make and carve out of the wilderness. I have made this journey a few times, sometimes alone, sometimes with close friends, sometimes with complete strangers and each time the sorroundings change. That perhaps is the beauty of it all. I soak it in knowing fully well that it will soon be time to return to the world as it were with all its hues and joys and sorrows. In another time and place I might have let that dilute this experience. However that time is not now.
Walking down these dusty roads is an experience by itself. The billowing wind, the parched land, the hardened weathered faces looking curiously at a stranger walking down that road. The road that starts from nowhere and leads nowhere. The road that epitomises the joy of journey without beginning and without destination. Why am I on it? There just by the side I see this snazzy road with neon lights, glowing bulbs, the party district whose intensity is only overshadowed by the even more glowing party people with their shimmering dresses, electronic billboards, the blaring sounds and the hustle and bustle of the new generation as nattily dressed people flit about. And yet there is a darkness that sort of envelops this road, the night fog descends and visibility is reduced. A brooding silence hangs around the road. Not for this road, the bright lights and the loud sounds. A few minutes on that road and I start getting comfortable again. I havent been here in a while. I see a few familiar faces and many new ones. The regulars sort of recognize and communicate their greetings with a small sign of the hand that speaks volumes. Words are not needed between kindred.
You see little pockets of people huddled around a small fire, wearing capes and hoods to keep out the cold. Most of them are meeting each other for the first time and will probably never meet again and yet they connect like old friends. They are exchanging stories and experiences with each other. Each story means different things to different people and yet it all sort of falls into place.
I keep walking and soon I see her. It doesnt come as a surprise. I have seen her quite a few times and know her from outside the road. We speak in the way only we can. This however isnt the time to stop. Again no words are needed. Communication pathways are established, messages transferred and acknowledged with minimal movement.
Moving on I reach the final outpost and find them waiting for me. I expected more to come but the toil and labour of daily life has taken its toll. Quite a few have fallen by the wayside no longer frequenting these dilapilated haunts. I take off my pack, settle onto the floor, and we all pore over maps ancient. We chalk out plans, check our provisions and its time to move. From this point onwards there is no road, the only road is the one you make and carve out of the wilderness. I have made this journey a few times, sometimes alone, sometimes with close friends, sometimes with complete strangers and each time the sorroundings change. That perhaps is the beauty of it all. I soak it in knowing fully well that it will soon be time to return to the world as it were with all its hues and joys and sorrows. In another time and place I might have let that dilute this experience. However that time is not now.
4 Comments:
aila!! LOTR part 4!!
hahahah .. Thank u :) To be even thot of in tat vein is sacrilegious ;) LOTR is not just one but zillions of leagues apart. ;) I wasnt even thinking of LOTR, rather of zen.
yeah .. wrote it in the wee hours of the morning. Read it again later in the day and to be frank it was perhaps a little too metaphorical. Tolkien had a big impact but I think thats not where the writing style mainly comes from. :)
If u reading this nag, u were right. For some reason subconsciously i agree that the writing style is closer to what u suggested. But then tats not too bad is it ;) And yea the writing style has changed a lil and fluctuates a little more. I still have my writings on the everything2 site and after reading this went there to see how my own writing might have changed and it has, for better or for worse ;)
excellent stuff man!
u shd seriously think of writing as a career.
excellent stuff man!
u shd seriously think of writing as a career.
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