A letter on the bus

Dear no one,

Like any other day, in any other city, in any other bus..I am sitting on the last seat of A particular bus..going perhaps in a particular direction where I am supposed to go everyday and do whatever I am supposed to do every day. I look outside, there are millions of people, walking, running, staggering as if in their mad rush to reach their destinations. And yet I wonder if they know where they really are headed? I look inside the bus, so many people, I wonder what they are thinking of...there's not a single face where curiosity of the road is mixed with the happiness of living..I blink my eyes, close them for a while shielding myself from the pollution, the harshness of everyday drudgery and wonder at no one in general...'Where am I going?'.. Of course, its an idle question, not that it needs answering. I'm even aware of the fact that I particularly don't want it answered..since in not knowing it, perhaps lies the beauty. I am reminded of a scene from the film 'American Beauty'..There's a scrap of paper dancing in the air..as if with a life of its own.

To be fair to life and everyone in general, I rewind in portions and smile a little mystically, life has perhaps been fairly good. I have seen love, warmth, happiness, comfort, all in more or less good measures. . and yet there is this huge emptiness, as I question myself again and again..where does the road lead to..There are contradictions to almost everything..in the chaos of the everyday, I want alone-ness, in the alone-ness of everyday I want comfort, to someone perhaps warm..someone who does not cling..and yet someone who leaves me to my own, and yet someone to whom I can reach out..without having to call....

There's a handle near the seat, where I am seated. It looks polished and gleaming from millions of touches perhaps and yet it is bare of the paint that once made it beautiful. It is today, like how it will be tomorrow and many many years later too...Human minds are perhaps similar in that the more things change, nothing changes at all...and yet all of us change so much in those little bits and parts of the everyday that slowly we fail to realize what is it that we are looking for, what is it that we want to look like.

People change, and yet they don't, ideas change and yet they don't..perhaps change itself changes and perhaps not. I shall get down from the bus at a destined point and do what I am supposed to do. I shall perhaps be happy in what I do too, and feel good at the end of the day at having achieved something that I set about to do. And yet that dull ache of emptiness, in the eyes and in the soul shall remain. I shall come back to this bus or perhaps another and see similar handles, that shine..the journey shall remain..it is only change that shall change perhaps?

I blink my eyes, something very green appears as if from some far away dream land. It is a green tree...some flowers, red, blue, pink suddenly pop up as if from nowhere..as if springing from hope....& magic..There's a small smile that lingers...as I realize, it is only HOPE that never changes..everything else does.

Regards

The confused Soul

( Image courtesy Google)