This being my second blog(the first one being on Rediff, which I wrote and forgot a long time back in college!), I thought it better start with a mundane description of the life and wanderings of a person of no particular significance, but just an existence.
I started off the day by getting up at 9.30 (bright and early!) in the morning. This being one of the 13 weekends and fortunatey the second last I have to spend in a country called England. I had planned to visit the old Roman Town of Bath with a British colleague of mine and a Spanish archaeologist friend of hers. Just woken up after the Diwali night (which was spent doing pretty much nothing), I looked out of the Window and saw dark clouds and rain drops on the glass panes. I knew from the sight of it that it would be just another wet and windy day, that I've come to love about England(which most natives don't).
I reached the station and met my fellow travellers, one of whom speaks Egnlish that I had taken a little time to get used to(when I had first met her 3 months back) and the other who speaks broken English with a Spanish accent and constantly refers to a dictionary to see if she is ordering the right dish on some menu, or understanding a word we say correctly, or rather to cross check what she is saying makes sense to us! I have developed a fondness for my colleague, for she is one of the few people who have tried (without actually trying) to make this 3 month exile a little easy for me, just by being there and chatting with me, and lending me books to read and offering little chocolates at work.
The day went on well. It rained most of the day. I got to see a bit of a mixture of Roman and British culture and a glimpse of the society through ages (starting sometime around 65 AD ) right from the Romans in England to a society in Jane Austen's time to the present day. I sometimes got a feeling of deja vu as I walked the Roman Baths and the Pump houses with live music. Every new place I go to has a different kind of feel to it. The rows of old Georgian houses nestled neatly into the hills, the falling rain, the steam rising from the mineral Baths, the pigeons fluttering, seeking shelter from the downpour, the hollies hanging overhead as a symbol heralding Christmas, the quiet streets, the quaint Nepalese Restaurant in the middle of no where, all left me feeling as though I had reached a different age.
Then the journey back home(although Reading is not my home, I have stayed and worked here for the past 3 months and I always feel comfortable and safe on a train back to this place more than on a train back to Noida), made me feel I had had a very different experience and had done something to add a little meaning to the existence I have. I got a phone call from India which refreshed my longings to be back home (this time I refer to home as being in Patna and with the people I live for) because he spoke a language I grew up speaking, he spoke of food I had not tasted for the past 3 months, he talked of troubled thoughts he had because he had overspent on a television he had wanted for his room. I couldn't offer much help or advice, but that didn't mean I did not understand. I seldom live in the real world. In my own world things are very different. People don't do things because they have to, they do thing because they want to. They don't live just because they have to, but because they want to, because it makes them and the people they love happy. Sadly, although everyone realizes that life is short and has more to it than appears , we cannot break away from the entanglements we weave around ourselves. By the time we realize this and try to struggle out, its already quite late. And when we realize, its never too late to start afresh, its already too late to start all over.
I wouldnt have traded this day in my life for a day from someone else's just because the world would classify that existence significant. My world is very small and there are not many people who know of it, but that makes it all the more significant for me, because it is mine and has been mine for the many years past.
The wanderings I mention in the opening lines of this blog, are not that of a person travelling but of the thoughts that wander, senses that feel, listen, see and assimilate. The turn of events in the days of my life, have helped me grow up and take one step at a time, falter, burn my fingers, step over a sharp rock, nurse my fingers and foot, rekindle the fire, smoothen the edges of the rock, at the same time not be too critical of the rock that cut my foot, or the fire that singed my fingers or that one of the many utterances (from people I value) that scarred me.
Some people say, its all a part of life. I agree. I have no means or the right to think differently or the right to be understood in a different (and correct way) than the usual preconceived ways of understanding. Here again the human brain plays a more important role than the human heart(which has pretty much been subjugated and quashed over the years). The brain is fed with ideas, degrees, books, thoughts about having a significant existence, but little do people realise the transitory nature of all things tangible. I value education, I value knowledge, I dont value the money that this education helps us 'accumulate and spend' rather than 'earn and use'.
I know this little(or rather long) piece of blog has turned into alleys, changed directions from being a travelogue to a kind of philosophical essay, pretty much like my wanderings. This insignificant existence of mine has seen lots of ups and quite a balancing number or overbalancing number of downs, which have made me what I am today. Although not significant in this big world, in my own silly little stupid world all of it is quite important and rather significant.
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