Read this old piece by William Dalrymple while traveling by metro to office today.
Home truths on abroad
Came across this beautiful quote by Nicolas Bouvier that i would want to keep with me for posterity. Dalrymple writes: As the great French traveller Nicolas Bouvier wrote in The Way of the World, the experience of being on the road, “deprived of one’s usual setting, the customary routine stripped away like so much wrapping paper” reduces you, yet makes you at the same time more “open to curiosity, to intuition, to love at first sight … You think you are making a trip, but soon it is making you – or unmaking you.”
beautiful, isn’t it?
हारे जो मैंने इश्क़ में तमाम आफ़ताब,
नज़्र कर रहा हूँ तुम्हें,
ज़रा पेशानी पर पहन लो तो महताब बन खिलेंगे,
ज़र्रा ज़र्रा महकेगी ये शब-ए-फ़िराक
haare jo maine ishq mein tamaam aaftab,
nazr kar raha hoon tumhein,
zara peshani par pehan lo to mehtaab ban khilenge,
zarra zarra mehkegi ye shab-e-firaaq
Angreji us pita ki tarah hai jisne jeevan mein safalta ke gur sikhaye, angreji mastishk ka wo hissa jo hisaab rakhta hai hisaabon ka, Hindi wo maa hai jiske aanchal mein chup kar hi aansu niklate hain, Hindi mann ka wo tukda jo waqt gujarte dekhta hai aur chapta rehta hai geeli clay ki tarah… Angreji-Hindi ne mujhe paal-pos kar bada to kar diya par lagta hai apni identity ke liye koi aur hi bhasha dhoondhni padegi…
“Work as hard as you can, imagine immensities, don’t compromise, and don’t waste time. Start now. Not 20 years from now, not two weeks from now. Now.” -Debbie Millman
delhidreams got featured in the Hindustan Times today, check page 11 of HT City.
when i was little, and at various times during this littlehood, i wanted to be an astronomer, a train driver, a pilot, a businessman, a matchbox collector, a professor and various other people that i eventually didn’t become. and maybe because i couldn’t be any of them, that i became a writer. as only in writing i found out that i could be anyone and everyone.
perhaps, it was fate that nudged me towards it. perhaps, it was my faith in myself that did it. (look at me talking like an accomplished literary personality, i’ve not even been published yet) what i do know for sure is that when you really ache for something you need, some sort of alchemy happens and you get it. really. it doesn’t look that obvious in the beginning, when the hurt is raw and the wound is sore, but wishes, genuine springing from the heart-well wishes do get fulfilled.
maybe, all of us are already what we’ve always (deep down our subconscious) wanted to be. maybe, we all are works in progress towards our eventual destiny. or maybe, all we need to change our fate is to have faith in our ability.
what do you think?
the root aches for the sky
and earth sought, by those who fly
the tears run away from the eye
and lovers part ways without a sigh
no one knows where home is anymore
where they come from, or where they arrive
neither anchored nor adrift
the globe rotates and clocks vaporize
the poet sits still while seeking around
an island wet, in a sea that’s dry
where all that he lost can still be found
where a beloved waits, and hopes reside
is there any genuinely ‘wild’ place left within my mind? can i embark on a breathtaking journey through the bogs and beaches of my existence and discover something undiscovered about me? OR have society and civilization ruined me for good? can i climb or walk or dive through dense layers of what i’ve been taught and sleep on the cliffs of un-reason risking to be blown away or to find my original self? OR do i’ve to agree that all that could have been found has been found and that there are no pure places where GPS and google and packaged forays into the conscious can’t reach? am i lost to myself? OR is there some hope, still…?