Impressions are a funny thing. What it sometimes does to you is that it fills your head up with expectations. Come to think of it, it plausibly germinates from a certain lack of knowledge, a misconception and sometimes even pure imagination. Some would even say that all it leads to is let downs. but then, what is life without a a dash of...impressions.
My tyst with my proffession has taken me to many places, some hot, some not so hot, some next to the sea, and some up in the mountains. And being a keen traveller, I must say that I’ve loved every bit of it. The prelude to every journey is always brimming with impressions – how would the air feel, how would the weather be, how would the people be..all certain basic questions I guess that usually flood the curious little human brain. So, when the compass needle pointed to the north east, it would not be untrue to say that I was jumping like a kid who got a new, shiny red cycle under his christmas tree when all he had asked santa was for a nice little white shirt. I’d always been in awe about the north east, the vibrant cultures, bamboo huts everywhere, the rolling hills and the thick forests, and the amazing food. I’m usually a patient guy, but the 15 hour journey in the Rajdhani that was to bring me to Guwahati was spluttered by nose presses on the glass window to catch a glimpse of the fleeting trees, going past at break neck speed, hoping that we reach our destination ahead of time. But then, when you’re desperate, the evil clock only goes slower and slower, and all forces work against you to hold time back. Well, so be it. True t its colours, the train got me to guwahati bout half an hour late, but to me, honestly it felt like half a day late. Did I mention earlier that I’m a patient guy??
Off we took to shillong in a thrilling bus ride, and as the picture unfolded before my eyes, I compared it to the impression I had of Shillong. Let’s first talk about the impression. Hmm..well…smoky and lazy…lots of greens and bamboos, every second house having a guy playing a guitar outside, pretty chicks with long hair wearing funky clothes, rolling green hills….and damn..was I right on all counts. Except maybe the guitar part, Shillong was eactly as amazing as I had imagined it to be.
How we remember places or events in life is also something quite peculiar. You see, there are events that define these..either they must’ve been a whole lot of fun..or the exact opposite, but when we go into flashback mode, these are the pictures and definite forms that play in our minds. It becomes more and more true as time passes by, and our memory starts playing tricks with us, leaving out the less important details. But surprisingly, if we somehow revisit that place, or the event, then even the lesser details become more pronounced, déjà vu is what they call it. The first step is to close the eyes, and believe me, when I do that, I feel the crispness of the breeze, laden with the fragrance of pine, tingling all my senses at once, transform me back to that amazing heaven.
Everything about this place stands out as being pure, yeah, that’s the word, pure. The air, the trees, the flowers, fruits, roads, the people, a hand of friendship, its as if your entire soul goes through a cleansing spree. Big words I know, but that’s how much all this means to me. Monday to Fridays were busy, so the weekends were looked forward to with earnestness. The initial ones were spent behind the handle of my little darling ( calling it a bike sounds too impersonal, and I don’t want to hurt her feelings.. she’s a bullet btw, so not so little either). She’d take me wherever the road beckoned, spiralling through winding roads, riding on the edge of numerous lakes, not a care in the world..jus off we went. Made the most of the most beautiful gift that we ever had..that of free will. This were the moments when I was seeing this lustrous hills from the eyes of a stranger. What is strange is that I never realized, and putting my strained concentration isn’t helping either, so I cant remember, when exactly did the eyes of the stranger transform into being the eyes of someone who belonged there. Maybe it was the friends that I made, who made me feel a part of the family, or the trip that I took with my friends from Delhi (that’s home btw), I would never know, but the two years thar I’ve spent here, I’ve truly been held under the spell of this enchantress. It transformed me from the concrete jungle that I’d been a part of for as long as I had lived, and showed how beautiful life can be right in the lap of nature.
Well life comes a full circle, and as I pack my bags to finally bid adieu to ‘this abode in the clouds’, I can’t help feel a tang of despair, at having to leave a paradise found, but also, a certain ray of hope, that these musical hills will beckon me again some day. I am travelling back to Delhi in the train as I write this, but honestly speaking, a part of me got left back right there.
No comments:
Post a Comment