He walked the roads. He sailed the seas. He flew along with the wind. He ran with no maps, no connectivity, lost yet smiling as he saw the sun rise across a new horizon every day. He sat there staring at the magnificence of the endless peaks, the bustling rivers and the swaying grass. He savored his life as he felt the wind blow across his hair, the sun shine on his skin and the rain splash across his face.
He could hear a faint buzzing noise. He knew he had forgotten something. He looked at the totem, it kept turning beside him. Rest assured, he continued painting a picture of himself while staring up at the night sky- a picture that whittled a child-like enthusiasm, that shaped an eye so curious so hungry.
He had carved out a life that most people dared not live. He travelled. He lived out of his backpack, away from the worldly hues. By now he was slowly forgetting that he had forgotten something. He had travelled the soils of distant lands, soaked in the waves of pristine islands. He had felt his adrenaline pump as he jumped off the cliff. He had felt his heart race as he dived deep into the sea. He had felt his spine shiver as he stood on the edge of the ridge.
His feet slips and he was falling into white oblivion. He tries opening his eyes. He fails. Downward seems the only way forward. He frantically searches with his eyes closed as the wide white ocean was engulfing him. The faint buzzing noise had become even louder.
By now he has come to a standstill. The totem however kept turning. He sits upright looking at himself beside the bed-lamp. The dream felt so real when he was in it. He is a mechanical engineer, forging words, welding them into phrases and hammering down lines. His inception just seems his gateway to sharing thoughts. He still remains lost in the idea- so resilient, so contagious.
Are his aspirations running him or is it him running after his ambitions? He looks at the totem again- it still keeps rotating on his table…
– Prasad (Bangalore, India)