Tuesday, April 29, 2008

Between me and the mountains.


From the thirteenth floor of my cold, figuratively and metaphorically speaking, office, I can see the mountains. Between them and me lie a few skyscrapers, a big slum, people going about town, trees and small jungles, hoardings and poles. And also, a 9 to no-time-to-return-home job, unsigned leave applications, responsibility and obligations, limitations, house rents and emis, city life, dreams and ambitions, literal distance, car that is not serviced, commitments, effort, permissions that ought to be taken, planning and pursuing. Someday I will cross it all. And get there.


3 comments:

i think said...

run bhavna run.

parasite writer said...

It would be good to spend your entire life making whisky in your backyard that you later share with your friends. Or rearing exotic fish that you either sell off or pass around as gifts. You could make it a life by just collecting honey in tiny pots from your own bee-culture that your neighbours would come and ask for. Or maybe just hand-crafting bicycles out of pieces bought from the market. Of course there’s no money in it. You won’t be doing it for the money but just for the kick you got out of it. Nothing fancy like playing guitar with the local rock-band or writing novels. But enough to keep you working elsewhere without worrying about your job once you are out of office. There will always be this small thing you come home to; or even find excuses to skip work if the fish aren’t doing too well or if it is the honey-gathering season or the whiskies are coming of age. And for fame, you will be this strange fella who lives on that side of the road and does this strange thing. But your friends will love you for the honey or the whisky that can’t be bought off the shelves. But the fame is not the point; or maybe it is. But only just. The point is, here’s something simple, small and totally personal that you could keep doing without worrying about the times when your joints will begin to groan or your face would be full of wrinkles. Out of a whole world-ful of possibilities, you are doing this really small, tiny bit but you are doing it oh so well and without really looking around to see if others are doing it better or getting paid more for it. You would just continue doing it and call it a life.

divya said...

You write so beautifully. And so true. It makes me sad