Lost in Sanctuaries

Dear Readers,

Today I write to you in a more mundane state of mind than usual. Huddled in a corner of a bus amongst other ruffled inhabitants of the city, I feel grounded, yet entangled in the inexplicable threads that help this metropolis move.

In my hand was a crumpled piece of paper on which I had penned down a few words in crooked handwriting. Seated in the sanctuary of a dilapidated bus stop, gazing out at the swarming street, my mind had wandered.

I had written:

The first gust of monsoon brushes gracefully through the wilted leaves,

Her locks of sienna and hazel surrender to the frenzied breeze.

The dusk serenades in orange and gold.

Swarms of feet toil in the drizzle,

Rhythmically they stomp and shove.

The once dusty roads are now abstract paintings of the eerie sky above.

The rain has granted reflections to all.

All sans one.

The dusk was slowly being invaded by the darkness of night. The faint moonlight filtered through the smoke like clouds of pale jade. Buildings and shops were slowly turning their lights on and the sky above reflected the aura of a city that refused to sleep.

The stage was set for an inevitable retreat into rumination.

 Like the snaking trail of raindrops that were creating inscrutable patterns of amber, crimson and alabaster on the window beside me, it was time to abstract the mundane. 

As I delve into this secluded dimension, I am glad to have you by my side.

The obscure watery hieroglyphics on the window were luring my mind into igniting thoughts that have one destined fate: implosion. You may be curious as to why I do not thwart these volatile thoughts before their inception. Unfortunately, the answer to this question is as enigmatic as the thoughts themselves. 

I think that the human mind has an elusive side which is plagued by destructive tendencies. It is almost like a devious, delinquent entity which is addicted to ruin. As we fight for sanity, it slyly and barbarically wreaks havoc.

The bus is still lazily treading the rain-soaked road. Intoxicated by the vehicle’s swaying rhythm, many have fallen sound asleep, with enticing images of home dreamily drifting in their drowsy minds. A streak of lightning engulfs the night in a fleeting blaze. Mighty clouds with an eerie glow trudge across the sky. A storm is brewing. I recall faint memories of a time when the slightest shatter of thunder would send shivers down my spine. 

But what are we to fear now when bigger tempests rage within us? We grit our teeth and brave the storm as the rain soothes our soul.

The drizzle is gaining strength and I watch as umbrellas open promptly. Under them, people were nestled together, as they treaded puddles on tip toes. The air was sharp and cold, but their shivering embraces were warmer. People drew close, shielding each other from the rain. The clouds looked down and smiled at their handiwork.

My eyes caught sight of a peculiar man who seemed to have not noticed the unruly weather. Drenched clothes and numb hands failed to pull him out of the unknown thoughts that he seemed so engrossed in. With furrowed brows and steady steps, forward he marched. 

I plugged in my earphones, leaned back, and stretched my legs as much as I could in the confines of the corner of the bus. Melodies and songs seemed to gracefully dance to the drumming of the raindrops on the roof and window. 

Dust in the wind.

All they are is dust in the wind.

Steve Walsh crooned melodically.

As summer slowly but reluctantly fades away, I am yet again reminded how time is unfaltering in its march towards infinity. In what seemed to be the act of a seasoned magician, half of the year had vanished before my very eyes. Seasons, days and moments became one in the whirlwind of time. In life, we always search for people and things which we can hold on to when this whirlwind grows stronger. 

I watch as halogen headlights ferociously whiz past on the adjacent motorway. Sometimes it feels like the needles of the clock strain themselves to keep up with the clockwork of this untiring city.

My chain of thought, now in tangles, was broken when the bus shuddered to a halt. I quickly collected myself and hopped off.

The air outside was rich with the invigorating scent of earth and the heavy fragrance of flowers. In the urban wilderness, a lone lamp flickered incessantly, casting its erratic glow on the peepal leaves which glistened like emerald. 

I slowed down my pace and watched the puddles effortlessly morph into different shapes as people stepped in them. Their umbrellas collided clumsily with each other. It was then when I realized that the rain which had quietened down for some time was now drumming up a harmonious ruckus. The trees were beginning to sway and the stray dogs were curling up as snug as possible in the driest patch of gravel that they could find. 

The sky grew darker and so did the soil. Thunder rocked the earth. My footsteps quickened but the ground beneath me felt like thin air. Dark silhouettes passed by me in a blur. I felt invisible, as if my existence had evaporated and become one with the fragrant wind. I could see every tiny smile and every little frown. Every miniscule sound seemed deafening. The muffled murmurs behind the translucent windows of cafés echoed in my ears. Every breath felt like blood curdling howls. Behind all this, the music in my ears was humming timidly. 

Then the heavens burst open with a majestic rattle. Like soldiers after a battle cry, the rain charged towards the ground.

My tussle with time was paused.

In the tempestuous gale I found my footing,

In the murky haze of monsoon, I found definition.