Travel Diaries--The Case in this Self Obsessed Society

There is a tendency to fall, in everyone’s beautiful space and admiration. What we never understood—or the commoner who always did, O life that must be lived in a certain way that it does not contradict itself. Listen to the sighing oceans and the uninteresting dilemma inside your head which wants you to think of something else.

I have always thought that the idea of escaping ones room has to be the bravest things one ever did. Packing a few sheets and three light inked pen—an unending saga of the unseen. There is beauty in starvation only when one learns to master the art of hunger.

So leave and walk not backwards—it’s the one thing that makes us who we aren’t. Soon the shrubs will lean unto you like your lover—and hold you like nothing were real. Your walk is such plain yet peddled with new ideas. The place where life gave birth to freedom.

Standing at the edge, even your own conscience could never strike at you. A new attire, with eleven sexes and three tents. Its snowy but it never mattered until today. A lapse of my step, soon the entire world is at peace. No longer are the authoritarians running after you—or what is the color of disrespect that you speak of.

The garden at the end of each lane—it wants us together. And my beat is nowhere near me, now that I needed it the most. Once I saw a star falling unto the trees, but it wasn’t a star—nor did the trees dance to any rhythm. It’s the magic inside the land that is such pure.

I walked past me only to see me standing and being flattered by the unevenness inside the bark of my favorite tree. There is a tent, one that is mighty than concrete or silver stains of the revolutionary world. And our minds will want to return, to be inside the comfort of the sheets at home, or enjoy the hot and cold showers which only the elite dress for.

There is so much pressure on me just to leave, but to the land that already has my names written on it. I will not take with us, but my dog who stood beside me like no human ever did. And my heart will be covered with tendrils and tailored happiness.

It’s the new feeling and it’s all that I ever wanted. Spaces are getting dramatically filled with coincidental plans. Now that every human knows—but to walk is such difficult.

So write me a letter back from civilization, but it shan’t reach me. Our destination has been diverted and is unrelated to the rules of this society. Just listen to the tenderness of the clouds, and the evaporating melodies of each evening—and know that I too, I watch over the skies like you do. It’s the one thing that I never let go.

-Yogesh Chandra