On the lookout for a miracle
Whenever I travel in a bus at nighttime, I keep staring outside the window, looking out for solitary lampposts and lonely huts. Such sights offer me a feeling I experience when I discover a child's drawing on a paper used to bundle up groceries.
But last weekend, as my bus spiraled on its way to Gokarna, I was on the lookout for ghosts.
I do not know how ghosts look but I continued looking for a flickering white light, for a body-less being, for a soft whisper with a mild fragrance.
It was not a want for a cheap scare. It was just a desperate need for some sort of a miracle.
It was not a want for a cheap scare. It was just a desperate need for some sort of a miracle.
If not for ghosts, I was ready to make do even with a God. But either refused to show up and all that lay ahead was just a beautiful trip.
****
Finding a place to stay
Restroom.
That seemed the priority. The living room could be compromised with. A night's sleep held lesser importance than a day's dump.
It made me wonder about the significance given to the living rooms and bedrooms in our houses. All the fancy furniture, the wall hangings, the show pieces - To a weary traveler, all these would seem as unimportant as the stairway in a 30 storied building.
Aren't we all weary travelers, some literally and some metaphorically, in our daily lives?
****
Eating mindfully
Lemon-ginger-honey tea and mashed potato with butter.
Possibly, the simplest of dishes one could order on a vacation. But sitting on an old plastic chair, behind an old plastic table, in an old and tiny cafe, with the Arabian sea before me, it was the best dish I had had in a long time.
There was no deliverable waiting. There was no meeting scheduled. There was no hint of sleep trying to overcome me. Every spoonful of the mashed potato and every sip of the lemon-ginger-honey tea lived its entire life in my mouth. Their travel down my throat was in rhythm with the receding waves.
No gobbling up. No hurried swallowing. I managed to eat, after a long time.
****
The waves
Why do we like waves?
Is it because, unlike us, they cannot be controlled?
Is it because, like a pleasant dream, they come to us voluntarily yet do not let us lock them?
Is it because, like really good friends, they keep coming back to the shore though the shore does not make an effort to hold them?
Is it because they dance so well?
Is it because, deep down, we are still the underwater micro organism that started evolution?
Is it because, deep down, we are still the underwater micro organism that started evolution?
Is it because, like many of us, they are the creators and destroyers of their own lives?
Why do we like waves?
****
Sunset/Sunrise
My brother and I were seated on a rock formation at the Om beach. We were waiting for the sunset. The two of us sat beside each other, sharing silence. The two writers that we are, that evening, we did not find the need for words.
The sun slowly started sinking in to the sea. I hurriedly grabbed my mobile phone and played 'Oru deivam thantha poove'. Halfway through the song, the sun disappeared. But at the very moment the bright orange ball left my sight, I realized why I loved sunsets and sunrises.
No matter how bad things are, no matter how good things are, the sunsets and the sunrises would go on. A bad day always has to end and a good day always has to start.
The next day, before the break of the dawn, I rushed to the Kudle beach and into the waves. There was no one around. I stood knee-deep amidst the waves, not knowing if I preferred darkness or light. The sun started its majestic rise. I hurriedly grabbed my mobile phone and played 'Oru deivam thantha poove'.
A feeling of warmth started seeping in.
Sharing secrets
As I stood at the Murdeshwar beach eating cotton candy, and on my way to the temple, my focus was only on the gigantic Shiva statue, seated in penance.
Man had built a remarkable statue of God to serve as a constant reminder of man's greatness.
But after I entered the temple, the large Nandi statue grabbed my attention. I remembered what my mom had told me in my childhood.
"If you desperately want something to happen, whisper it in Nandi's ears like a secret. Nandi has the power to make it happen".
As I walked closer to Nandi, I realized that I did not want to share my wants. Instead, I had a bag full of secrets. I unloaded the bag and handed over the secrets to Nandi.
It felt really good catching up with an old friend.
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