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FINALLY I TOUCHED THE GROUND...

What happens when one almost always on walk goes on a ride?

From the spread of headlights I guessed it was a strait long drive ahead. But it was not long when I realized mistake I have done and there I was, at a dead end.

"There's no time and use of pulling the breaks," I told myself. At the blink of an eye I was on my free fall, a 6000 feet downward journey.

I decided to utilize the remaining moments and tried to get a feel of the good old saying, "A rolling stone...no moss!"

Pull of the mother earth and the feel of air striking on my face took me back to the college Physics class, drawings on the black board and the day when Professor Sharma was trying to make us understand the concept of terminal velocity .

"The terminal velocity of an object falling towards the ground, in non-vacuum, is the speed at which the gravitational force pulling it downwards is equal and opposite to the atmospheric drag (also called air resistance) pushing it upwards. At this speed, the object ceases to accelerate downwards and falls at constant speed..."

By now I must have traveled some two thousand feet. Probably I have balanced the air resistance and attained that constant speed. Now it's time to wait for the moment I touch the ground. It’s time to be ready to see myself splitting apart into pieces.

But why am I not terrified?
Why I am not crippled with fear?

Comments

dwaipayan said…
did u try bungee jumping or what????
jac said…
Thank God, you are here.
Rita said…
Good to have you back in blogosphere after your long hiatus! However, I did not expect to see a post like this one as your come back post!
Stay well :)

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Rays of hope...

These days,
I can hear my heart saying
its time
you confront your life,
its time
you nourish dreams
fill some colours
to the grey grey world
And I followed it, added a colour, a crimson colour full of life. I can feel the spaces inside my heart getting filled with sight and smell of rose and sounds of echoing laughter. I can feel it growing fonder, quieter, warmer then ever. I am struggling for words to paint my heart. There are thousands of them.As it usually happens, in these moments I find it difficult to choose the best of them...all of them dearer, all of them nearer...I am sitting quite till they grow strong enough to break the barricade erected long time back. I am waiting for the day they unfold their wings again, to touch the vast blueness above.
These days, I can hear my heart saying the day is not far...

Thousands of miles away, yet...

I do not remember what it was that made me realise, 'I am moving too fast'. I pulled in the breaks to a jerking halt.

I looked back to check how far I have travelled...the meter says I did travel a lot. But how can I still see the 'square one' clearly with my naked eyes? And where's the trace of 'me' that I am looking for? Why can't I see even the vague impression when I look forward? Was my journey like a wind mill? ' Running fast, but travel no far'?

It was some twenty years back. Just like many others, I asked the simple three word question ' Who am I?...Finding no one around to answer, I started my journey on foot. A search, for an identity...

And now when I glance back, sitting still on the corner of the tranqil lake, I can recollect answers to many questions that I have gathered during the journey so far...I know what I am, I know what I can do, I know what I can't...I know what I have gathered, what I had gathered and lost while run…

On the way back...

"A good traveler has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving.”
Lao Tzu



Don’t know whether we were good travelers, but seemed to be a little bit of it. We left home with the idea of exploring the enchanting land of Palampur, without knowing what plans the almighty had for us. While negotiating with the Taxi operators in the Pathankot railway station, we ended up charting out a plan to first visit places in McLoad Ganj and Dharamshala (the land of Buddhist monks) and explore the vast green lands of Palampur on the way back. Though we maintained this travel plan till the end, the tit bits were changed many times in between with many omissions and additions. And at the end of the journey, when we were back to square one, there was consensus amongst us, it was a journey well made.

“I see my path, but I don't know where it leads. Not knowing where I'm going is what inspires me to travel it.” Rosalia de Castro




Travelling on the misty roads to Mcload Ganj, I realized the sayi…