For the last one year, there has been a face, on the rain washed window screen. In the monotonous life of projects and assignments and late nights, this was the one enigma in my life. A blurred face without a body, an identity without a physical existence, this was the only thing that reminded me of a city I left when I was a carefree teenager.
Times have passed since then. I have moved from the city to a village and then to another but my growing years have been remained static in the beloved city of mine. The face spoke the language I have longed to hear in the technical nitty-gritties of higher education for six long years.
Back in Calcutta, the face suddenly had a voice and it was that of a child, with eyes full of dreams, free as a bird, free to turn life in any direction it wanted, a life reminiscent of lazy afternoons on a green terrestrial sky, of an Oasis in the Desert, a fleeting glance seen once in a Blue Moon.
And then like everything else, a paradox faced me. What if the voice suddenly had a body, what if the last remaining conundrum suddenly became one with the world around me? I wondered and as if to answer my question, my days were filled with completely unimportant tasks that one has to attend to. Old Friends. They matter. Always.
It took ages for the voice to be heard. It might take ages again for me to put a shape and form to it. Time. It’s a luxury I’ve let go of.
And to be frank, I am not unhappy. Let the last few mysteries in my life remain. Men need their El-Dorados.
I walk a lonely road
Times have passed since then. I have moved from the city to a village and then to another but my growing years have been remained static in the beloved city of mine. The face spoke the language I have longed to hear in the technical nitty-gritties of higher education for six long years.
Back in Calcutta, the face suddenly had a voice and it was that of a child, with eyes full of dreams, free as a bird, free to turn life in any direction it wanted, a life reminiscent of lazy afternoons on a green terrestrial sky, of an Oasis in the Desert, a fleeting glance seen once in a Blue Moon.
And then like everything else, a paradox faced me. What if the voice suddenly had a body, what if the last remaining conundrum suddenly became one with the world around me? I wondered and as if to answer my question, my days were filled with completely unimportant tasks that one has to attend to. Old Friends. They matter. Always.
It took ages for the voice to be heard. It might take ages again for me to put a shape and form to it. Time. It’s a luxury I’ve let go of.
And to be frank, I am not unhappy. Let the last few mysteries in my life remain. Men need their El-Dorados.
I walk a lonely road
The only one that I have ever known
Don't know where it goes
But it's home to me and I walk alone
PS: It took a lot of thought to give the picture this shape. The white looks good. A good substitute for the window shield...
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