Skip to main content

Those misty mountains

I am going to Joga again with a faint hope of forgetting this hurtful world. Wish I could live in a hut there in the midst of forest, toiling for firewood, cooking my own food and reading till my eyes close on their own. The scenery at Gerusoppa is breathtaking. Its so beautiful surrounded by mist-covered mountains and an incessant, die-hard rain which challenges us as if by saying 'let us see, who is more enduring; you humans or I?'
The only drawback of the trip is the long journey, which I hate. Of course I get time to contemplate on various things, especially since I have become too busy nowadays to even think of trivial things.
Let me see if my troubled mind gets peace from this short sojourn in forest.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Two separate questions

Guess I am out of touch with everything right now, so no blog entry for many days. From many days, a question is bothering me. I haven't found a satisfactory answer yet. So I'll write it down here. Maybe anybody who reads this may know the answer. "Just because we are journalists, writers, opinion creators and thinkers, do we have the right to judge others? Either personally or professionally?" I think we don't have the right to judge a person, even if we are right. But as writers, we would have to judge others whether we like it or not. And it's very difficult forcing people to think, but that's what we are doing or pretending to be doing right? Another question: "How come life is so simple if you just let it live by itself without bothering much and so complicated if you try to manipulate it or even understand it?" Blessed are the ignorant. We who can understand everything, try not to let anything go by without understanding and thus miss the b

The next step forward

“ What is the feeling when you're driving away from people, and they recede on the plain till you see their specks dispersing? It's the too huge world vaulting us, and it's goodbye. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies.” -- Jack Kerouac (American Poet and Novelist) From what I have seen and admired in humans, they are eternal optimists. Goodbyes seem to break us, but we straighten up and walk, holding our head high, blinking away our tears. And as regards the specks of people dispersing, when something moves away, something else comes near. Guess that's how laws of nature move. If a time comes when nothing else comes near, it's when we will become really alone; alone to live and love life without any reason, taking the next step forward.

Why?

I miss the complexity of the book and am tired of the predictability of people. Reading each page of a book takes you to a different realm, and often surprises you with its observations. I agree books are written by people, but why do people remain predictable in life and unpredictable in fiction?