On the way back home, I stopped. I stopped, looked at the sky and thought for a while. I was like the shepherd boy, searching for his destiny, searching for the reason of our lives set alone for a journey. But where was the Alchemist, who could show my path? Where was the Alchemist who could have shown me the meaning of omens and signs…?
The whole world was going in its own way. No one did care to answer me. The nearby station suddenly got busier because of a train entering into it. The wind had started blowing. The lake was not still now, creating small ripples around. And then a small branch of leaves fell from the topmost branch of the tree. The same tree I see everyday beside the lake, and at the Southern Avenue.
Everything is not a sign, but signs are hidden in everything. I remembered the first lesson of a nomad. The power I have, that I can use a pen, is my strength. But at the time of dejection, it’s my curse too. And the curse will remain forever in my life. With the wind far gone, and the time that will follow, I will be ready to go anywhere in the world…
I looked up at the sky. It was the same dark night I had seen three years back. The moon was there, but to the other side.
“Is there God?” I asked.
The evening train came running out of the platform now. And as it passed by the lake, its reflection on the water kept my eyes fixed on it. Seconds were passing. A cool breeze started blowing, and the Chhatim tree bent its branches so as to say something.
“Then tell her to help this atheist.” I muttered.
- A short part from a story of mine, expecting to hit on March '09
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