The Movement
On a lazy Monday morning,
When the sun is still hiding behind the clouds
Trying its best to take the day off
And birds taking forever to leave the nests
I, against all the wishes, set off
On a journey
Traveling has fascinated me for long
I never understood it completely
Is it about the destination, the journey or
The company
Never had the chance to choose the destination,
The journey itself makes me anxious,
More of a solo traveler I am
I do believe traveling doesn’t understand me as well
Out of hundreds of companions I have had
Over the years of moving around
One stood out from the rest of the crowd
His face is still foggy in my memory
Not much of a memory himself
Not a single feature that would distinguish him
Nor was he any different from others
One of those regular man
We witness everyday while walking down the road
Sipping a cup of coffee
Or just staring at the crowd at a station.
He was probably traveling alone
For the first time in his life
And I could guess it was a long lived one
By the greyish shade of the beard
He was greeting his fellow travellers
Thinking those who are flying must be civilized
A childish delight I saw on his face
While looking out of the window
As the distance between the plane and the land
Continued to increase
He did remind me of a kid
Who used to love these giant machines
Used for traveling
Way before being familiar to the philosophy of
The journey, the destination and the company
This kid knew how to enjoy himself
I saw that again after years sitting next to me
When did I lose him I wonder
Probably on one of the journeys
He found out adults don’t enjoy
Passing trees, running over rivers and racing the endless roads
The moving scenes from the big window
Hardly spark anything in them
And closing eyes in one place and waking up miles away
Isn’t a wonder to grown up minds
Probably in one of those journeys,
He understood,
It isn’t about the journey, the destination or the company
It’s a mere movement
