A brilliant post by a fellow blogger has had its resonating tune playing with my mind.
( To read the original :-- Our Nomadic Future )
A tranquil subterranean flow of thoughts has suddenly felt a hidden desire to emerge and seek pleasures of presence of those glowing rays of sun, kisses of sweet gentle breeze and whispers of those mirthful trees. It yearns to revisit the ruins of a civilised mind that has its confined existence in a dungeon of connectivity of this modern world.
This world has numerous languages; some are dialects, some have broader realms and some are at deathbeds. Still each has a glorious past; a past that once comforted souls of some of our ancestors, sweetened their lips and conveyed their love, anxiety, concern and wisdom, which has nourished tender saplings of humanity.
As human endeavour to reign in time and labour has prospered indisputably during the last few decades, it also brought forth an unappeasable insolvency in defraying on for peace and contentment. And, the society and its citizens are afloat on a vast pool of time with no time to spend for its own.
Life has broadened, connectivity has drawn the remotest horizon to an atomic distance, and time has endowed humankind with all its opulence; yet the string that binds souls has slowly slacken off. Words have learned to shed its feathers, one by one, to clothe in newer forms. Messages have learned to clip its wings and adorn itself in SMSs. Those short signs still communicate, sometimes they connects hearts with passion, emotion and love; yet it fail to get warm cuddling of unfamiliar souls, to connect people beyond in process and to enliven the social environment. Sharing of human expressions remains a disconnected beat in the sweet rhythm of melodious social harmony.
The postman who had carried bagful of emotions for so long years has now had enough fertile time to seek pleasure of a trance, which will lead to a quick end of his duty. And, for me? Closer to end of my journey, I have ample time to reminisce—to reminisce about those postbags, those letters, those simple toiling lives and those precious moments that time offered generously to me. I wish to share the excerpt of one recent post in my travel blog........( To read the original :-- here )........
This world has numerous languages; some are dialects, some have broader realms and some are at deathbeds. Still each has a glorious past; a past that once comforted souls of some of our ancestors, sweetened their lips and conveyed their love, anxiety, concern and wisdom, which has nourished tender saplings of humanity.
As human endeavour to reign in time and labour has prospered indisputably during the last few decades, it also brought forth an unappeasable insolvency in defraying on for peace and contentment. And, the society and its citizens are afloat on a vast pool of time with no time to spend for its own.
Life has broadened, connectivity has drawn the remotest horizon to an atomic distance, and time has endowed humankind with all its opulence; yet the string that binds souls has slowly slacken off. Words have learned to shed its feathers, one by one, to clothe in newer forms. Messages have learned to clip its wings and adorn itself in SMSs. Those short signs still communicate, sometimes they connects hearts with passion, emotion and love; yet it fail to get warm cuddling of unfamiliar souls, to connect people beyond in process and to enliven the social environment. Sharing of human expressions remains a disconnected beat in the sweet rhythm of melodious social harmony.
The postman who had carried bagful of emotions for so long years has now had enough fertile time to seek pleasure of a trance, which will lead to a quick end of his duty. And, for me? Closer to end of my journey, I have ample time to reminisce—to reminisce about those postbags, those letters, those simple toiling lives and those precious moments that time offered generously to me. I wish to share the excerpt of one recent post in my travel blog........( To read the original :-- here )........
…………Next morning, when we boarded the first bus to Ukhimath, it was just three quarters past four. The darkness of a dead night had still not silenced its dirge. A faint glow on the eastern sky was a promise only. The stand had a leisurely gaze on its sleepy eyes. The bus would start sharp at 5 for being in mail service. With us there were only six other passengers.
It moved on laden with a few of juddering lives and a bagful of human expressions in sharing love, pain, concern, anxiety, and wishes. As soon as it left the main town, we were left with a road to run and mirthful Mandakini to accompany of the left. Soon we were joined by a pool of tiny tots—nicely dressed for school—at the next village. And mailbags were dropped and some fresh bags were collected. Abundant beauty of nature, laughter of those innocent kids, and occasional trysts with some known, some unknown villages carried me to a state, where I had longed so long to belong, yet it never sustained in the melee of brutal city life. I could feel pure efforts of so many souls that make us convey a single line of love or pain or else to our loved ones—it takes aids of so many hands, meet so many bright innocuous faces, listens to so many intimate exchanges, runs so many miles softly caring the seeds within, and observes expressions so closely of both the writer and the reader. Someone whispered to me, “Each of us is only one such message”. I was lost somewhere and woke up to sense when someone again whispered, “It is where you wish to reach”…………
It moved on laden with a few of juddering lives and a bagful of human expressions in sharing love, pain, concern, anxiety, and wishes. As soon as it left the main town, we were left with a road to run and mirthful Mandakini to accompany of the left. Soon we were joined by a pool of tiny tots—nicely dressed for school—at the next village. And mailbags were dropped and some fresh bags were collected. Abundant beauty of nature, laughter of those innocent kids, and occasional trysts with some known, some unknown villages carried me to a state, where I had longed so long to belong, yet it never sustained in the melee of brutal city life. I could feel pure efforts of so many souls that make us convey a single line of love or pain or else to our loved ones—it takes aids of so many hands, meet so many bright innocuous faces, listens to so many intimate exchanges, runs so many miles softly caring the seeds within, and observes expressions so closely of both the writer and the reader. Someone whispered to me, “Each of us is only one such message”. I was lost somewhere and woke up to sense when someone again whispered, “It is where you wish to reach”…………
I wish to live on with memories of my postman, my society, my long letters and my useless, yet soulful life.
'Society and its citizens are afloat on a vast pool of time with no time to spend for its own.'
ReplyDeleteWell, you seem to have found enough time to do just what you desired.
I went through your Tri-Kedar post, where you recount of the marvellous journey you undertook to Kalpeshwar, Toli, Rudranath and Madmaheswar and found it very fascinating. You have described your experiences delightfully, at places sounding poetic.
I was not able to add a comment there as it said it requires me to 'log in.' I'll try again sometime later. Thank you for sharing your beautiful thoughts. I hope Lopa's toe has healed well.