What would require more courage – standing in front of a bike speeding at 60 kmph, almost certain that the driver is not going to slow down, yet making all efforts to have him stop a few inches from you, with slim chances of escaping unhurt, or bearing down on a chain of people blocking the road, tightening your grip on the throttle to rush more fuel and air into the engine, trying to honk the imminent danger into the listener’s head, knowing fully well that if no one gives way, you would be involved in a bad accident, 75 km from home, and at least half that distance from good medical facilities, at the mercy of people you have injured on purpose?
Or maybe, you’d need more courage to be sitting pillion on such a bike, screaming at the rider to give in, having absolutely no control on the situation, praying fervently that you escape unscathed, logic pointing out that there was hardly a chance of that happening. Continue reading A weekend not in vain→
He had come a long way from comfort, and there seemed to be no way of saying how much further he would have to go. The only thing that kept him going was the thought that he would not be able to live easily without finding the answers.
Coming to a stream of reason, he stopped to drink of it, and looked back at the way he had come. Had he not been so uncomfortable not knowing the answers, he would never have embarked on the journey. For it was no easy task he had undertaken. He was traversing the paths that thought traveled, emerging from deep within the dense foliage of emotion, and finally pouring itself out at the sea of consciousness. It was like following the path an unbridled horse had taken, for there seemed no purpose, no reason in the movement. The paths were tortuous, and here and there he observed places where the thought had broken through cobwebs of sloth, gaining momentum, but no direction with every step. There were pools he came by, but he stopped not though he knew that thought had sipped from them, for he knew the effect these had had – thought had become drunk with pride. And there were trees under who’s shade thought had rested, but he hurried through, for he knew they cast shadows of doubt. He looked at the water, but the stream of reason was brackish, and he sighed and plodded on towards his destination, the source of thought. Continue reading The Journey→