The Pathless Woods
Basking under the blazing sun and feeling the warmth of a summer evening has long remained an unattainable luxury. The bottom of the river bed is visible as the scorching sun has dried up the river which will flood its banks in about three months from now as monsoon arrives.
The last time I visited here was nine years ago. I was fourteen then. I was with my family. It was autumn. I remember our kayak gliding slowly through the waters while the sun was setting in the backdrop. Ducks and swans swam with us. Small fishes gathered around the kayak for the bread crumbs we threw at them.
The place hasn't changed much. The ones who live here are the happiest. Climate change hasn't reached here. The pathless woods, the endless river — nature's abundance is well embraced here.
Not many are aware of such a place. But I know such a place exists. Should I tell anyone? Would anyone believe me? I am never going to be the mouth for those ears. And I don’t want to. This place is better off this way.
I have done nothing to preserve it. No one ever did anything. Yet it exists — the woods, the river — all exactly like it was a decade ago. And here I was, enjoying silently the serenity of solitude. Man, am I rich!!
I look up at the sky. Up ahead, I see birds flying. My Paisley-printed shawl glows as the golden rays of the sun caressed it.
I can hear bells chiming from far away. Prayers and the fragrant smoke of incense fills the air around. It's magical and so unreal. This is too blissful to be true.
The clock ticks; the sun sets. The mental wounds aren’t healing anytime soon. But the very fact that — in spite of it all the treachery and toxicity that has to be encountered at times — the ghosts of the mishaps and the saviours of painful memories can wait, does make living a tad easier!
As it gets darker, I decide to take my leave. I have to walk a few miles before I reach the train station. I am no Zarathustra, but walking alone in the woods with the setting sun in the backdrop does make me feel like a wizard.
I reach the station. Up ahead, I see the lights turn green. Passengers rush into the compartments as the sound of the horn caresses their ears. The train has started to move. As the train slowly picks up speed, I push myself against the window pane trying to feel the cold breeze. The windows are open and tiny droplets of water brush my hair. It’s drizzling outside. As the train moves farther, I look out through the window to get a final glimpse of the place. The place is far from the vicinity.
Another day will begin and the rut will continue. I will play along knowing that someday I will pay a visit to this world again, seeking solitude. And that day, I would want to stay here for an eternity!
© Ashwin 2019
