- 1 -
A
sack on his back and smile on his lips
Aching
legs and excited eyes
Humming
a song in his tongue
which
perhaps sings of a his journey
A
Traveler’s Symphony
Perhaps
he sings of a Lover’s Lost Ballad
or
perhaps of the stars he’s seen along the way
Or
perhaps just a rainbow of colorful thoughts
I
don’t know, but I wish he’d stop and say
I
wish, he’d take a moment, and recount his stories
of
damsels and shepherds, of castles and woods
His
smile is nostalgic, as if remembering a wonderful year
His
eyes seem full of stories, some he looks eager to share
But
some he wishes to keep to himself
I
see it in his eyes, but I do not probe
The
stories he shares do little to quench my thirst
But
make me eager for stories of my own
So
he walks again, the same way he came
Purposelessly
strolling, absorbing each moment of his life
Does
he lead a life without purpose
Or
does he lead where he has found one
- 2 -
I
asked him if he ever felt lonesome, in the secluded quest
He
said he did, at times
Sometimes,
his road was painful
Boulders
of misunderstandings stand in our way
Suffering
becomes as much a part of life as breath
But
sometimes, sweet memories take away the pain of the present
Memories,
of a shared laugh or a long hug
Of
something as simple as a first date
or
as hard as a last handshake
But
memories have power to wipe both smiles and tears
He
spoke of a girl, the recollection of whose eyes never failed his smile
He
showed me a picture, I couldn’t appreciate
Because,
he said, it was his story, and I had to search for my own
He
said he was lucky to have earned such memories
Memories
which give him courage to walk his path alone
He
knows even if his life has nothing but a sack today
his
memories shall never desert him
- 3 -
I
asked him, if this was what he wanted to do
if
the motive of his life was being met
If
he always wished to be a traveler
If
he always wished to be alone
He
replied life works on no plans
Life
is a series of random chaotic events which take you somewhere
It
always takes you somewhere, on a road of your choice
But
your choice is limited to your opportunities, which life provides
He
never imagined when he was growing up
That
25 years later he’d meet a man on the other side of the world
Who’d
question him of his way of life
Never
imagined finding the answer would be so difficult
Because
life doesn’t make sense when you try to predict
it
appears a long dark forest which only shows its depth once you step in
Yet,
whenever you look back, it seems as if it was always meant to be
Somehow,
the dots always connect looking backwards
And
that he said was the beauty of life
That’s
the mystery which makes life the wonder it is
It
is in knowing your next destination
It
is in living in the present one
- 4 -
Finally,
I asked him one last question
In
his travels, I asked
across
valleys and seas and mountains and plains
and
cities and villages and towns and roads
had
he ever met God. Did he believe God guided him
In
the life force he talked about, in destiny
in
creation in people in science in religion
If
he ever encountered God
He
smiled, and said
His
sack gave him food when he was hungry
His
legs took him to what he believes is his destiny
His
body kept him alive
and
one day, when he dies it wouldn’t have mattered to anyone
What
only matters in his short stint in the world is his own happiness
And
he worships whatever it comes from
He
worshiped a beautiful lake whence he came across one
He
worshiped the sky when it rained
he
worshiped the old couple who gave him a roof for a night
he
worshiped the ships which helped him in his travels
As
he stood up, he said the world needed a religion so it created one
And
God is as real as the Universe
Yet,
religion is one way of getting close to God and traveling is another
I
might find my own path, in words or children or music or a soulmate
He
turned back and the last words I heard
‘You
don’t need a religion to believe in God.
Religion
made one for itself, you get to make one for yourself.’
Vishal
Gupta
October
3rd, 2013
