Diary of a Lost Wanderer: Where I belong

 

A Lost Wanderer is something I have always called myself. So this segment of my blog is dedicated to all those cynical musings which haunt me at times, nudging that writer in me to give them a form in my words.

Sitting by the window staring at a sleeping world I wonder where do I belong?

  

It is said, “Home is where the heart is. “But my heart is no longer here confined in the four walls of this room. When I had come to this city I had brought along a lot of hopes. Today the only thing that remains out of them is their broken remnants.

 

 My heart is lost in the noise this city calls music. And also somewhere in the streets where you can find everything that you want to buy but nothing that you need to have. Strangely enough not for a moment am I alone since the time I leave this room. People, in all forms, shapes and sizes are around. Running, walking, singing, chasing their dreams is how I see them; being pushed by life is how they actually are. And yet a strange sense of quietude envelopes me all the time. Everything is and still everything is not.
 

Source: Google Images

My mind wanders along with the wind to those dusty lanes of childhood where worry was alien. All that was known was to laugh at everything and anything. The day began with excitement and ended with more excitement mixed with anticipation of beautiful tomorrows. I feel that soft sunshine rays on my face as I lazily stretch my arms to hug life one more time. Is my heart somewhere here, I begun to wonder on hearing those melodious bells of that ice-cream Walla (Ice cream vendor) who spelt sweetness in every form. And suddenly it all becomes quiet... the loneliness of the night engulfs me once again.

 

Is my heart there? I squeak remembering those hundreds of books I had collected so lovingly all these years. Somewhere between those yellowed papers, wrapped in beautiful prose my heart must be laying there, basking in their magic. The sudden gush of the breeze that blows away a few papers wakes me up to say my heart is yet to be found.

 

I rummage through some of my old stuff lying untouched since quite some time silently hoping that my tired fingers will touch something and it will be déjà vu. No such thing happens for hours till the fatigue of my fingers reaches my eyes rendering the search useless, and in a way hopeless too.

 

Maybe in those long forgotten lyrics of melodies my heart still hums... or perhaps in those boxes full of memories I have stored in the attic. In those heartfelt hugs exchanged with my loved ones somewhere in the forgotten lanes or those heaps of pictures that adorn my otherwise barren walls.... my heart must be there somewhere, hopping from one to the other looking for that one place where I belong!

~A Lost Wanderer
June, 1998