pilgrim’s blog

The thought of falling through thin air has always fascinated her. To stretch ones arms and feel the wind on the face and find it running its fingers through the strands of hair let loose. Her earliest memories of the thrill of free falling was when her dad would throw her high in the air and she would come down squealing with pleasure to be safely caught by him in his arms. Then she graduated to jumping from the window sill on to the floor below. As the days passed by, her tastes widened but the desire to enjoy the thrills of a free fall remained somewhere in the corner of her heart. Suddenly nights would find her dreaming of her being carried by the wind down a vale. Heights never frightened her. Pictures of mountains taken from top angle would make her imagine herself flying down to the depths till she became a dot hardly visible. It was during one of those days when she was preoccupied by such thoughts that she happened to watch on television a sport of one of the tribes living in the dense forests of Africa. It was a crude form of the modern sport of bungee jumping. The thrill and spirit of adventure written wide on the face of the participants made the adrenaline shoot through her veins.

Once she came very close to participating in the sport on her trip to Thailand when she came across an advertisement offering the tourist an exhilarating experience of bungee jumping. There she saw some adventurous guys taking the reverse jump where one comes down with the back facing the ground. Here as one falls the face is turned skywards.

 If the death of a young student while attempting to reverse bungee jump had not occurred a few days back and if the news had not made her family put their foot down adamantly to this wish of hers she too would have been among those who were undergoing the heavenly experience of falling down freely even if for a short while without the feeling of being shackled. With a heavy heart she returned but she knew she would some day or the other allow herself to indulge in it come what may……

It was the year she had turned 14 and started shedding her baby fat. Having entered high school, her class teacher suggested she go for extra coaching for Mathematics at the Mathematics teacher’s house in the morning before school started. Though she was blooming into a woman beautifully her mind was still that of a child for that matter a naughty child. She was the tomboy of the class and the first one to be caught when ever some mischief happened. That was the same reason she was the pet of her class teacher too. Coaching class started at 8 in the morning. All the students were required to remove their shoes outside the outhouse, in front of the mathematics teacher’s house, as it doubled as the coaching class room also. As per the rule she too left her white canvas shoes along with the other pairs of shoes before entering the room. After an hour of mathematics coaching, it was when she stepped out of the room to search for her shoes among the heap, that she noticed it with a bit of paper carrying her name neatly placed inside it. To identify one particular pair of shoes from that mountain of shoes was not an easy task more so when it did not belong to you. Extra ordinary observation could alone help in achieving that task She had no idea who would have done her this favour. Smelling nothing funny, she was thrilled to find her shoes without any effort because of some ones large heartedness in marking it by placing her name in it, of which she made no secret and even thanked the unknown friend loudly for helping her. Not the slightest trace of the previous day’s incident remaining in her memory, the following day she left her shoes as usual in front of the out house before entering the class room. Class over, as she began her search for her shoes once again she saw bit of paper one inside each shoes awaiting her attention. At a closer peek what met her eyes made her roll with laughter on the floor. For the bit of paper carried the words “I LOVE YOU”. To get a love letter in a shoe ??? Even today her daughter teases her saying how she would have almost become another Cinderella with the shoe playing the cupid if she had not laughed out loudly and scared the poor suitor ….

These eyes had never sought another face in the crowd. They knew not how to seek one for they had never left this one face. These large expressive eyes, where, once danced different emotions all brought about by this one and only one face on which they lingered be it day be it night.

And when that one face faded away from their sight these eyes were as good as blind for they knew not how to seek a new face. The ex-pressions in them bowed out one after the other their remnants strewn carelessly to be swept away and cleaned by the last drop of tear before the lights were blown out and the curtains drawn. The once dancing eyes wore the look of a stage vacant from where the players had made an exit clear.

Will the eyes ever light up? Will the stars ever twinkle on this firmament again? Will love, mirth, laughter, shyness, shame and the thousand subtle emotions adorn this stage once more? Will these eyes speak volumes as before? Longing, the last one to exit, will it ever be seen here? Nothing remains now except the long array of questions the answer to which no one knows and the impenetrable blankness of death that pierces right through the ones who try to read them

Braving the strong wind I climbed the hill top. It was the highest point on the island. As I looked down I saw huge waves lashing at the rocks far below. The sea was unusually rough. The gigantic waves threw themselves as the poisonous fangs of a huge sea monster. From the place where I stood one could feel the raw strength of the sea. This was the spot, the leftover inhabitants of the island, had sought refuge when Tsunami had struck the shores of the island. Standing there I tried to feel what the people stranded there would have felt, seeing the demon like waves leaping at them, greedily devouring whatever lay on their way. The same sea which had sustained them turning murderous and thirsting for their blood. This spot revealed the sea in its cruelest form. It felt as if the sea there had an old grudge towards this piece of land which had managed to escape its wrath that fateful day. When the rest of the island had been devastated by the titanic waves only this small piece of earth dared to remain dry and give shelter to a handful of frightened souls. The sea, as if, refused to forget that insult meted out to it by this tiny piece of land. One could feel the fear in the air even now, the vestige, of the fear that existed in the minds of the few people who huddled together to escape from certain death a few feet away. Even as I looked down I felt as if the sea was warning me that next time it hit I may not be as lucky. I felt somewhere inside me the threat was not hollow. If a 'next time' happened the waves would be definitely taller than the place I was standing. I impulsively embraced the earth where I stood as if it was the last time I was holding it. Before descending I looked at the sea one last time praying in my heart that it would spare at least this piece of land when it unleashed its fury next time.

Sea usually has a very soothing effect on me. It makes me feel light and formless as the water engulfs me. The vast blue expanse makes me aware of my puny stature and cleanses my mind of false ego. But that day standing on the hilltop looking at it,I felt disturbed seeing a new facet of its persona. I wondered if I would ever be the playful girl I am in its company or would I be like the little child which in spite of being admonished by the mother runs to her when happy or sad. Whatever change occurs in the equation between me and the sea , it would always be an integral part of me