It is a strange feeling. It’s a step yet it has so many infinitesimal sub-steps under it, so many if conditions applied to each one. I was just wondering what it’d be like to find places and roam around them. Especially if the places are in other countries. Meet people, spend nights in their rooms, and under open night skies, even if it’s raining sometimes. Spend nights talking to them, about their lives, their problems, their love, their everything and just keep listening until they ask me to tell something. Perhaps even make love with strangers who would not be strangers after I’d have talked to them in the nights, cooked with them, shared with them small wreckages while cooking them some Indian food in their kitchens, hitchhike on strangers’ land and roads.
I see a fellow blogger always having traveled so much since her teens it makes me feel jealous on nights like these. The biggest problem is exchange rates. I mean 1$ = 65 Rupees! My friends who’ve gone to US for higher studies share their dilemmas with me, where spending a dollar somewhere else means they’d have to walk for half an hour to get a bus back and the like. Here, I’m in between parents’ separation, being thankfully lifted and driven by God knows what, finances uncertain, job uncertain, what I want to do / can do uncertain. I’m 23 and it’s been over 2 years since someone has wanted to sit with me and talk. I haven’t talked to any friend let alone seen one in person for over 5 months. I don’t even know if I have friends after these. It’s frustrating sometimes, with the only option left to just write it down for no one else to read/see but the wayback machine.
I know people battle with problems more worse, and this is more of a desire and longing than a problem. But there is always more. This isn’t more really, this is like a compensatory longing for time spent by other’s choices or rules, be it a person or Indian society or lack of options or ignorance.
I’d just want to get away for a while, with a stranger, no matter if it sounds something that only happens in the movies, it’s a possibility. People have had experiences. I just keep asking to nobody in particular why not me. Why can I not tell my parents or anybody for that matter where I’m doing with whom, what I’ll do there. Why can’t I set out a foot towards the mountains and explore unchartered territories, perhaps just stare at the pink cheeks of beautiful upper Himalayan women. Why can’t I explore places? Why am I so afraid of things? Why am I writing this?