The Island of the Misfit Toy
It was an island- an island so beautiful as if it was a part of the utopian world itself. Castled somewhere in the middle of the deep blue Pacific, a patch of land rose and stood its ground.Hidden in the midst of clouds, fenced by hills rolling up and down, covered by a carpet of grass so lush that the wind creates a wave of green… The glistening sand on the shore- the sand that the sun couldn’t bleach no matter how bright it seemed to shine; the pale blue waters of the lagoon- the water that the tides couldn’t wash away no matter how high they tried to rise… I drifted silently soaking in admiration of the place -a paradise- I always wanted to be in. Away. Away from the screams of vehicles, away from the dazing high concrete structures, away from this world where I ran unsure of what I was running towards or running from.
I knew it was a dream. I knew I had to wake up. And I did. And I do every day hoping I will be there one day soon, hoping that I will pack my bag and walk off soon, away into the world that I seem to have forgotten to remember. “There’s this saying: in an all-blue world, colour doesn’t exist… If something seems strange, you question it; but if the outside world is too distant to use as a comparison then nothing seems strange.”
Everyone has got the same idea- to travel; to feel the world; to watch it with a new pair of eyes. We all travel, we all drive hundreds of kilometers, fly thousands of miles, but just to watch TV and check into somewhere with all the comforts of home. Ah, what was the entire point of it anyway? Trust me, I would rather trot the globe and search for something I haven’t tried before, sleep in some place I have never slept in before, wake up to a new day with a new sun I haven’t seen before. Just blissfully take in all the experience. And if it doesn’t turn out the way it has to be, probably it was worth it.
We all travel with a baggage and sometimes to get rid of a baggage too. But to refuse an invitation; to resist the unfamiliar; to fail to keep the mind open- that would be shutting the doors to a self that craves for freedom, that would be caging a bird that wants to fly; that would be taking away the eyes that want to see, the wings that want to flap.
That’s the reason why I dream of this island. That’s probably why I see myself on raft, fishing. That’s definitely why I see an image of me just forgetting myself in the paradise. I want to lead my life like the real way. Forget just for once about the blaring and the buzzing, the running and being run down, just laying aside the phones and laptops, just take in everything just as it was meant to be. Fish, swim, eat, laze around. It’s such simple stuff, but… If I could stop the world and restart life, put the clock back, I think I’d restart it like this. For everyone.
And so I run into my island- the island of the misfit toy.