I was sitting outside in the room’s balcony with a cup of tea and a book which I had packed along for the holiday.
It was the first week of June and we were spending 2 days in a resort in Madikeri. Monsoons were supposed to have set in but there were no rains, only the constant forecast of rains and thunderstorms on ‘The Weather Channel’. The time was 6.30 am and the morning was a cool one. There were sounds of birds chirping in the surroundings which frequently got louder as if all the birds of the world would have descended there for a conglomerate with each one wanting to give the others a piece of its mind but nobody intended to listen to the other. Or may be it is just my modern-day human interpretation as I see all around in the civilized world.
At one point, the sounds grew loud enough causing me to stop pressing my mind upon the story which wasn’t proving to be as good as its prequel and finally I shut the book close. I tuned in to the varying decibel of chirping and the bustling of leaves when the chirping sounds would allow. I fixed my gaze on the trees, rows of which lined on the hill slope below. I witnessed a leaf falling all the way from the highest branch of a tree, swaying loosely with the gentle breeze and its touching the ground. It was sheer tranquility and then as Dashy says ‘Time Travel‘ happened. The imaginative mind planted loved characters from the past into that scene amidst the tropical rain-forest. Cruising within the numerous plots and projections it created, I managed to catch it in its misgiving. In addition to the present setting, it had also been bombarding me with the memories of all the earlier journeys and escapades it had created for me with the same characters. I tried bringing it back to the solitude I was experiencing but in vain. It became tiring for me.
The fickle mind!
It always does this to me on holidays. It is easier to keep it in reins at home, however on vacations and travels it just breaks free as if in revolt. It lets me stay in the surroundings but robs me off my solitude.
I looked at the time in the phone. It showed 7.30 am. An hour had passed whereas it seemed like a fleeting moment. I got anxious looking inside the room through the glass door. I feared any moment Dhruv and husband would wake up and I will not get a moment to myself until the next morning. For the next few minutes, I fueled my anxiety with the same thought.
And then bang!
Dhruv opened the door and stepped outside with “Mummy, I am bored.”
“Bored? You have just woken up. How can you be bored first thing in the morning? How about a big good morning hug first?”
“Come I will brush your teeth and then we can read your book.”
Brushing his teeth while singing rhymes silly, I felt more in the present then when I was all to myself. I long to be with self in solitude and it becomes a chore when I am not practicing it at my usual spot at home. As I happen to understand while writing this account, beyond home the solitude gets translated into loneliness and may be this is the reason the mind adds my past soulful connections to the scenes.
Can I do something about my loneliness? I do not know at present.
Another trip to Coorg is coming up next week and I am wishing it does not end up in the sense it turned out to be last time.
Linking this post with #MondayMusings hosted by Corinne Rodrigues