Monday, October 27, 2014

From the Nomad's Diary

What is the point of journeys if you don't have burdens? As the Bedouin says, "the world is full of troubles, this is our share of it". So, take it with a pinch of zen.

Thank you, keep your package deal on happy lives. I am not signing up for it. I would rather fall through creeks, be the alien in racist heartlands, say the wrong thing at wrong places and pitch my tent of non-belonging on nooks and corners of the very round earth.

(Note to the future self- next time when the urge comes to live another life, kindly go to South America, Africa, China...some place like that. Somewhere outside the sacred heartlands with their xenophobia and repressed and overt racisms. Not every place can be Mexico. )

You do have a  new name. So, be fine in that skin. Do you know how nice it is to be free?The villages, towns, cities, people...they are all the same. But, they are all very small if you look through the right glasses.

It is a very short life. So, cut the ties that bind, Don't be anybody else for anyone. Burn the bridges. Travel through new roads, have great conversations with strangers who will disappear again into thin air. Walk through mountains as often as you can. Try to kill the idea of money. Try to create spaces where over conversations and small cups of tea, new worlds are imagined. Travel again on bus tops with the bravest and wisest gang of women you have ever met.

Lose fear. Things which have to blow away will blow away. Go back to your rude, foul mouthed city. The only place which can become half way near home. In spite of the  summer which can break the soul of Chengis Khan and the aggression of its alleys, the place has the build of some thing which you can come back to.

Buy a few square feets some where mid air. To pile the books, memories, broken bits, rarest colors picked from unknown places. A kind of place to leave from, a kind of place to come back to.

Don't make regulated plans. How boring is it to know all the things which are yet to happen. Lose graciously. Bid good byes with a toast to those who leave. Shed tears, how else will you see rain bows?

And work as if you are a flute making its finest song. Try to lose the way as often as possible; how else will you come across new places, new people?

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