It was a long day at work. My body felt a little tired and the heart felt a little sad. I don't know why I was physically exhausted or what was the reason of my sadness. I did not want to think either because my mind was already cluttered with thoughts of the past. I went for a walk - a quiet walk by the river side. Only when you come close to the river you realize that water of the river isn't stagnant. It doesn't get contaminated by itself over a period of time. It is the strong current which flows day in and day out, taking everything along with it, dissolving all signs of existence with it. There is a lone duck swimming in the river, against the current. On the outside it looks calm and collected, but it sure is pedaling like hell just so that it can move a little bit upstream. It sees its own reflection in the water and wonders who is looking through the silver mirror. I could have been that duck. I think I am that lone duck.
I do not know where I belong to. Am I supposed to swim in the river? Am I supposed to be on this bank or am I supposed to be on the other side of the river? Why does it look like it would be a better life on the other side. Clueless and curious as I am, I decide to walk through the bridge. I see a young man walking down the same bridge with a big bag in his hand. He is coming from the other side and I wonder what makes him cross the bridge. Once I reach the other end, I realize that I had no business here. I do not belong to this bank. And I make the journey back to where I came from. And for some reason I think that I could have been the young man with the big bag. I think I am the young man with the big bag.
This time the road to nowhere looks so familiar. I walk through the gardens and cross the trees. There is a small lonely house that looks completely out of place. The hustle bustle of the small town seem to have somehow missed ruining the serenity of this house. There are bigger monuments around this humble dwelling and I wonder who could be living there. It was very easy to even ignore its presence. As I am about to move further, I see someone coming out of the door. He looks contended. I could have been that house which could even be a home. I think I am that house - a stranger's home.
I move down further and see the downtown. I cannot place the spices but they smell too familiar. They take me back to a time where I did not have to worry about feeding myself. But then, I wanted to get away to earn my own meals. And now when the world thinks I am capable enough, I want to go back to the old times when I did not have to worry about anything. There always was a familiar face and a pair of hands which made sure that I never slept hungry. I could have been hungry today just like those old days. I think I am hungry, just like those good old days.
And then I hear the sounds of music at a distance. The sounds are inviting and I cannot but try to find where they are coming from. I see a small group of musicians playing their own instruments. They do not seem to know what the next note is supposed to be but by some miracle they are in perfect symphony. I see the young man I saw at the bridge with a cello. He looks at me too and we share a smile - a smile of understanding. And as I sit and close my eyes, I wonder who am I. I could have been the notes from this symphony. I think I am the music from this symphony.
I have been a loner all my life. I think I will always be one. My life has not been about how hard I could swim or the journeys I could make from one shore to another. My life also has not been about being self sufficient or being someone's love. I don't think I have been any of it or that I would ever be. I am the music, the one single piece of melody coming out of all the instruments there are. I am the music which could not play at any other rhythm nor the music that could ever stagnate. I am the music whose notes flow higher and higher and higher..Until they can no longer be heard.
I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder. She said it was about time. It was time to go home.
I nodded in agreement.
