Stories straight from the heart
The clouds are coming
The ground turning dark
I have but few places to hide
My shelter tattered
Have you ever felt fear? Real fear. The kind that rises up from the base of your spine. The kind that leaves a chill all across your skin. The kind that is accompanied by the realization that this could be the moment of reckoning. The kind that you cannot do anything about.
Sometimes the best laid plans can go to waste.
I was to leave for Ladakh a couple of weeks back. Everything was set. The saddlebags were strewn in the open. The bike was leaking oil and the brakes weren’t working. I had just quit my job and had no assets or savings to speak of. I had people breathing down my neck about all and sundry items of my life. It was perfect. Until the fat doctor with a penchant for being hours late came into the picture and spoiled it. She detected dengue in my blood stream.
I used to feel like a dog on the edge of a highway. Fascinated by the quickly passing by cars and buses which always seemed to know where they were headed, hurrying quickly to the destinations they were so sure they needed to reach. I was so unlike them. I stood at the edge of the road not knowing even which direction to venture out into. Thoughts of possible death by getting crushed were not what stopped my steps. Neither the fear that I had no idea which side lay what. It was this undefined vagueness in my eyes which made everything very blurry – like an old, grainy sepia coloured film running in slow motion. I was lost in the view. I wasn’t in a hurry. I didn’t have anywhere to go. I had no destination. I just wanted to enjoy the view.
It got very cold as the overhead blower kept spewing a chilly breeze despite it being no more than 10 degrees outside. And I let it go on. The breeze forced my eyes shut which had no sleep in them despite this being the last flight out of Delhi on a Sunday night. My eyes began to float.