chapter 1

chapter 1

It’s the time of the year again to start reflecting. Regardless of your religion, culture or belief, end-of-years are always when people are the most earnest in recounting their adventures of yesteryear.

So, I’ve decided to resume my old habit of “blogging” (aka, writing one piece and forgetting that I even write). Now that I’ve figured out this ‘long term traveling’ thing, I’m finding it easier to make time and breathe. Let’s kick this off with a prelude to my 40 day solo adventure in India —

Ask anyone who knows me and they’ll tell you: she’s going to go. I’ve always been a passionate dreamer of the intricacies of life; I’ve always been tragically in love with the hidden corners of the world. I can sit, lost in thought, for hours at the time, heart desperately yearning for adventure.

When I was younger, I was convinced I’m an alien – how could I be from this planet when I’m so in love with the extraordinary?

2017 was a great year – no – it was the best year. Finally for the first time in my life, I felt like slowing down. I felt like I was truly innately happy – with work, with love, with life. I felt like I belonged to the lavish lushness of loving Seattle. The year flashed by. And like a furtive gaze across a dance floor, heart twirling, eyes closed, I found my feet dancing, lightly, twirling, heels flicking the varying technicolours of life.

But, my happiness metaphored easily as cubes of ice. A beautiful crystalized hexahedron of translucent beauty that will suddenly, without warning, melt and trickle past my curbed palms and clutched fingers. What I felt cannot last forever. I could not have found what I sought for so long, so quickly and so simply. This cannot be it.

Complacency has always been the Enemy. So I took off. I knew it was time to jump to grow.

I’ve dreamt about traveling the world since the age of 9. I was always drawn to the idea to absolute freedom and unrestricted boundaries – the freedom to roam wherever, the freedom to pursue whatever. I was wrapped up in the idea of Going, passionately obsessed with experiencing everything raw and new, tragically in love with developing the idea of Me. I was, completely and utterly, head-over-heels attached to the idea of absolute detachment.

Living someone else’s idea of Me is suffocating. Call this my first experiment, call this my last hurrah, Janus smiled at me and I found a pocket full of stars.

Now that I’ve cut the puppeteers’ strings loose, let us cheers to all the adventures ahead. No regrets.

x

(Sent from Aurangabad, India)