Out beyond ideas of right-doing and wrong-doing, there is a field. I’ll meet you there. Rumi sounds in my head. Chilly morning breeze freezing my face and hands. I see the field at a distance. It feels warm. Bright as early morning. The breeze is softer. The field was always as I imagined. Endless and golden. I see her. I swoosh past a couple of lorries. And then she’s not there. I am all alone. The gush of air in my ears and revving of the engine. Its not a bad place to be in. The calm lets my mind wander wherever it wants. Memories. Hopes. Freedom. And I head deep into the traffic.
Life is full of contrasts and semblances. Sometimes I feel the world outside to be a projection of my state of mind. It swings from peace to chaos like a pendulum in perpetual motion. Wasn’t the traffic I was heading into a reflection of the conflict inside me? I squeeze my way past two semi-trailers. Why do they let these vehicles within city limits during peak hours? Buggers. One moment I am in a serene field and the next I am searching the skies for the source of disturbance. Reminded me of the calm before the first monsoon rains back in my hometown. A longing to be back in the safety of childhood pangs at my heart. Jerked back by the rickshaw taking a near impossible maneuver to overtake me. Moron.
As all journeys this too has to end. A friend told me recently to count my blessings each day, it will make me a better man. Well I had my share of blessings today; the wonderful thoughts, the drive, the field and most importantly her. I see the field once again. She is there. And so are some others. That’s my field. My world. I park my car happily and head into the house. And I hear a low pitched rumble coming from the sky behind me.