Not All Those Who Wander Are Lost
The day is just like any other. He wakes up begrudgingly, hammers his alarm shut and squints against the bright screen of his cellphone. I recognize the sound of a Facebook notification. I don’t even have to guess what it says. “You have memories to look back on”. It’s been a year today since his last solo adventure trip. For me, it marks a year since I was last used. And while I’m reflecting on these thoughts, I see his eyes open wide awake, as he turns to look at his photo wall. So many adventures. So many experiences. All a thing of past now. I can see the thirst in him, repressed day in, day out; but in moments like these, it rises up and chokes him, and tears well in his eyes. He wants to go, but where his heart bursts with desire, it runs empty on will.
One Year Ago
It’s a bright sunny day, and the mountains, daunting as ever but for once, seem inviting. The Sherpas say that the mountain gods have blessed their trek. He’s not religious or superstitious but he still offers his thanks to nature and hopes that it’ll keep him safe. The never ending expanse of snow all around, the pristine air so high above, the strong, moaning winds, the hot ‘kava’ in his stomach, and the blissful desolation of being there, just him, me and the Sherpa – all mix up into a heady concoction which he drinks in through all his senses. He enjoys the burn in his muscles as he treks up to the top. The steady stream of adrenaline in his blood, owing to the precipitous and deadly crevices and falls around him make him feel more alive than he has ever been. And when he makes the summit, a proud feeling overwhelms him, one of surmounting insane odds to come out on top and viewing what only a few people ever get to experience. Nothing seems impossible to him anymore and he feels as if he’s born anew, with more zeal, vigor, ambition, and happiness than he’d imagined possible. He feels, and he rather is, on top of the world.
A noise from his laptop breaks him out of his reverie as he mournfully tears his gaze away from all those photographs. He grimaces at the mail from his boss calling him early to prep for a client presentation. A strong sense of dejection hits him as he wonders how hill slides have been replaced by PowerPoint slides in his life.
***
One Year Ago
It’s a bright sunny day, and the mountains, daunting as ever but for once, seem inviting. The Sherpas say that the mountain gods have blessed their trek. He’s not religious or superstitious but he still offers his thanks to nature and hopes that it’ll keep him safe. The never ending expanse of snow all around, the pristine air so high above, the strong, moaning winds, the hot ‘kava’ in his stomach, and the blissful desolation of being there, just him, me and the Sherpa – all mix up into a heady concoction which he drinks in through all his senses. He enjoys the burn in his muscles as he treks up to the top. The steady stream of adrenaline in his blood, owing to the precipitous and deadly crevices and falls around him make him feel more alive than he has ever been. And when he makes the summit, a proud feeling overwhelms him, one of surmounting insane odds to come out on top and viewing what only a few people ever get to experience. Nothing seems impossible to him anymore and he feels as if he’s born anew, with more zeal, vigor, ambition, and happiness than he’d imagined possible. He feels, and he rather is, on top of the world.
A noise from his laptop breaks him out of his reverie as he mournfully tears his gaze away from all those photographs. He grimaces at the mail from his boss calling him early to prep for a client presentation. A strong sense of dejection hits him as he wonders how hill slides have been replaced by PowerPoint slides in his life.
***
He sold a huge chunk of his soul to earn this life. The money is good, his living standards are what most only dream of, and waste away their whole lives chasing. Today he has his friends over at his place for a poker night. Single malt flows freely and people get their kicks out of risking money which is chump change to them. The babble of conversation revolves mostly around one’s recent accomplishments in their job or the state in which their relationship/marriage is. Their proclivity to self-aggrandize and subsequent boasting of it sickens him to the core and every poker night he wonders why has he let himself get dragged into this. He excuses himself to the kitchen on the pretense of getting some water, but I know why he’s going there. To look at the friends from his earlier life – the ones he met on his adventures.
Three Years Ago
He along with a couple of foolhardy men are trying out their life skills against the dark, dank, dense tropical forest. The fires are smoky, it rains almost every other hour, their packed food is damp and fast degrading and their hunting skills are tested out to max each day. But nothing ever dampens their spirits and there’s always an atmosphere of singing, dancing, and celebration around. The group consists of a seasoned camper, a science grad with a desire to study nature away from textbooks, a novelist researching a premise for his next book, a Wall Street money man escaping from the concrete jungle, and him, who has no grandiose reasons for being there, other than the fact that it makes him happy. The merry bunch met each other the first time on the first day of their excursion, and the trials and tribulations at the hand of nature are what made them comrades in arms. The days go by unfettered from prejudices or judgments of any sort and no one re-lives or recounts anything from their past as everyone is out there to live in the present. He never had any brothers, and that week that wish is fulfilled as they stand by him, nurse him as he falls sick, and he too, in turn, does everything they ask of him and more.
Loud calls from his friends, to come back and join him in the game or fold and bow out, drag him out of that happy place and resentfully he takes his seat among them. A wry smile appears on his face as he looks around at all the poker faces, and looks through them. He’s sickened by the hypocrisy and duplicity of this bunch but to be social he has to go along with it. He misses those serendipitous friendships, which began in clean slates and people liked people solely on their actions in the present and not from third party opinions or their past.
***
It's his third anniversary with his girlfriend today. He’s planned a dinner and movie date, just as she likes it, and is putting on the shirt she got him for this special occasion. It’s exquisite, classy and definitely expensive, playing up to her tastes of dapper men. As he buttons up his shirt he looks back over their three years of togetherness. Today, he cares for her, he’s dutiful and loyal, and he’s there whenever she needs him. To her credit, she’s a good friend, makes him smile and most importantly is supportive of his crazy work schedules and career ambitions. But, the passion that was once between them is long gone. There was a time when even the thought of her lit his eyes up on fire, but all that heat, spontaneity, and recklessness is gone. The urban fairy tale which everyone buys into is his reality, except that it’s no longer a fairy tale and slowly turning into a nightmare. He settled down and love happened to him, but he misses the tempestuous, passionate soul-baring affair he had all those years ago. There have been other girls in the past, before and after her, however, no one has ever got through to him as she did.
Five Years Ago
It’s the first day of their desert safari and the group is getting to know each other. He meets and greets with everyone but a girl has caught his eye and ever since he hasn’t stopped stealing glances at her. Finally, when he does go up to her to introduce himself, he finds himself transfixed in her piercing gaze, wincing a little in the strong grip of her hand and bowled over by the mischievous smile playing on her lips. He is smitten, instantly, hopelessly and perilously as he gives off a sheepish grin. The gods above favor this union as the girl too takes a liking to him and thus begins their courtship of seven days, which is nothing short of legendary. The girl with her tremendous intellect, sharp wit, precocious maturity, and as a sharp contrast an uncouth, unabashed tongue has etched herself into his very core. There are times he wonders whether all this is a beautiful mirage, like the image of an oasis the desert plays into the mind of a thirsty wanderer, but her passion, her touch, her kiss makes it all very real to him. The hot days are spent chasing each other over the sand dunes, teasing, taunting and goading all the while. The cold nights are spent intertwined, body and soul, in the tents, baring their thoughts, desires, and demons to each other. He has never felt so wanting and wanted ever, and believes rightly so, that he never will. They know their romance is short-lived and doomed at fate’s hands, and perhaps that is what makes it all the more special. The days and their adventure have flown by in a whir of excitement and emotions and now it’s time to bid adieu. She gifts him her own backpack, me, saying that I’m something he can always remember her by. He complains grudgingly that he doesn’t need a backpack or anything for that matter to remember his soulmate. However, she’s the wiser one and in response to his argument, kisses him and tells him how humans, he, she, all of them are born with a fallible memory and that it’s in their nature to forget things over time. Unwillingly, he accepts it, keeps me and in return gives her his backpack.
The ring of his cellphone brings him back from this treacherous recollection and he shakes it all off and chooses to be in the present like she had always wanted him to be. Nevertheless, humans never are capable of complete control over their thoughts and he picks up his girlfriend’s call, as he leaves the house with a shadow of those beautiful seven days on his face.
***
He’s in an exceptionally bad mood today. He’s on his cellphone with his sister, the one person in the world who has always been there for him and has understood him even when he himself failed to. He’s on ranting about his life being in a rut and is complaining about everything. From the books of self-help and motivation, he receives from his bosses to the artificial nature sounds they play in the spa where he accompanies his girlfriend, to the parody of adventure sports and events his friends take up and often drag him along in hopes of feeling young again, fighting a fast approaching midlife crisis. He complains about how the whole world deluded him into believing he was lost; he had no true calling when he was a free spirited, wild wanderer; it was high time he grew up, took stock of his life and made something real, something tangible out of it, like make a family and leave a legacy. He’s annoyed with himself in having bought the consumerist urban dream which is shamelessly sold and it cost him not just money but his very spirit. In response his sister, an avid reader of literature, quotes Tolkien to him – not all those who wander are lost. She admonishes him for all his complaining and puts forth a simple choice to him – either keep lying to yourself about who you are, stop complaining, stay here and be lost forever, or get out there, wander aimlessly, and in that aimlessness rediscover your love, passion, and happiness in life. I catch him looking at me, and then he speaks into his cellphone, “You know what, you’re right. As always. I am leaving. I don’t know where. I’ll keep you posted don’t worry.” And with that, he stuffs his old hiking gear into me, grabs his wallet, locks up his house and leaves. He is going to get lost to find himself again.
He along with a couple of foolhardy men are trying out their life skills against the dark, dank, dense tropical forest. The fires are smoky, it rains almost every other hour, their packed food is damp and fast degrading and their hunting skills are tested out to max each day. But nothing ever dampens their spirits and there’s always an atmosphere of singing, dancing, and celebration around. The group consists of a seasoned camper, a science grad with a desire to study nature away from textbooks, a novelist researching a premise for his next book, a Wall Street money man escaping from the concrete jungle, and him, who has no grandiose reasons for being there, other than the fact that it makes him happy. The merry bunch met each other the first time on the first day of their excursion, and the trials and tribulations at the hand of nature are what made them comrades in arms. The days go by unfettered from prejudices or judgments of any sort and no one re-lives or recounts anything from their past as everyone is out there to live in the present. He never had any brothers, and that week that wish is fulfilled as they stand by him, nurse him as he falls sick, and he too, in turn, does everything they ask of him and more.
Loud calls from his friends, to come back and join him in the game or fold and bow out, drag him out of that happy place and resentfully he takes his seat among them. A wry smile appears on his face as he looks around at all the poker faces, and looks through them. He’s sickened by the hypocrisy and duplicity of this bunch but to be social he has to go along with it. He misses those serendipitous friendships, which began in clean slates and people liked people solely on their actions in the present and not from third party opinions or their past.
***
It's his third anniversary with his girlfriend today. He’s planned a dinner and movie date, just as she likes it, and is putting on the shirt she got him for this special occasion. It’s exquisite, classy and definitely expensive, playing up to her tastes of dapper men. As he buttons up his shirt he looks back over their three years of togetherness. Today, he cares for her, he’s dutiful and loyal, and he’s there whenever she needs him. To her credit, she’s a good friend, makes him smile and most importantly is supportive of his crazy work schedules and career ambitions. But, the passion that was once between them is long gone. There was a time when even the thought of her lit his eyes up on fire, but all that heat, spontaneity, and recklessness is gone. The urban fairy tale which everyone buys into is his reality, except that it’s no longer a fairy tale and slowly turning into a nightmare. He settled down and love happened to him, but he misses the tempestuous, passionate soul-baring affair he had all those years ago. There have been other girls in the past, before and after her, however, no one has ever got through to him as she did.
Five Years Ago
It’s the first day of their desert safari and the group is getting to know each other. He meets and greets with everyone but a girl has caught his eye and ever since he hasn’t stopped stealing glances at her. Finally, when he does go up to her to introduce himself, he finds himself transfixed in her piercing gaze, wincing a little in the strong grip of her hand and bowled over by the mischievous smile playing on her lips. He is smitten, instantly, hopelessly and perilously as he gives off a sheepish grin. The gods above favor this union as the girl too takes a liking to him and thus begins their courtship of seven days, which is nothing short of legendary. The girl with her tremendous intellect, sharp wit, precocious maturity, and as a sharp contrast an uncouth, unabashed tongue has etched herself into his very core. There are times he wonders whether all this is a beautiful mirage, like the image of an oasis the desert plays into the mind of a thirsty wanderer, but her passion, her touch, her kiss makes it all very real to him. The hot days are spent chasing each other over the sand dunes, teasing, taunting and goading all the while. The cold nights are spent intertwined, body and soul, in the tents, baring their thoughts, desires, and demons to each other. He has never felt so wanting and wanted ever, and believes rightly so, that he never will. They know their romance is short-lived and doomed at fate’s hands, and perhaps that is what makes it all the more special. The days and their adventure have flown by in a whir of excitement and emotions and now it’s time to bid adieu. She gifts him her own backpack, me, saying that I’m something he can always remember her by. He complains grudgingly that he doesn’t need a backpack or anything for that matter to remember his soulmate. However, she’s the wiser one and in response to his argument, kisses him and tells him how humans, he, she, all of them are born with a fallible memory and that it’s in their nature to forget things over time. Unwillingly, he accepts it, keeps me and in return gives her his backpack.
The ring of his cellphone brings him back from this treacherous recollection and he shakes it all off and chooses to be in the present like she had always wanted him to be. Nevertheless, humans never are capable of complete control over their thoughts and he picks up his girlfriend’s call, as he leaves the house with a shadow of those beautiful seven days on his face.
***
He’s in an exceptionally bad mood today. He’s on his cellphone with his sister, the one person in the world who has always been there for him and has understood him even when he himself failed to. He’s on ranting about his life being in a rut and is complaining about everything. From the books of self-help and motivation, he receives from his bosses to the artificial nature sounds they play in the spa where he accompanies his girlfriend, to the parody of adventure sports and events his friends take up and often drag him along in hopes of feeling young again, fighting a fast approaching midlife crisis. He complains about how the whole world deluded him into believing he was lost; he had no true calling when he was a free spirited, wild wanderer; it was high time he grew up, took stock of his life and made something real, something tangible out of it, like make a family and leave a legacy. He’s annoyed with himself in having bought the consumerist urban dream which is shamelessly sold and it cost him not just money but his very spirit. In response his sister, an avid reader of literature, quotes Tolkien to him – not all those who wander are lost. She admonishes him for all his complaining and puts forth a simple choice to him – either keep lying to yourself about who you are, stop complaining, stay here and be lost forever, or get out there, wander aimlessly, and in that aimlessness rediscover your love, passion, and happiness in life. I catch him looking at me, and then he speaks into his cellphone, “You know what, you’re right. As always. I am leaving. I don’t know where. I’ll keep you posted don’t worry.” And with that, he stuffs his old hiking gear into me, grabs his wallet, locks up his house and leaves. He is going to get lost to find himself again.
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