comfort in an anchored experience

 

Almost every day for the past 4 years (would have been 8 if not for the gallantry of covid 19), excluding Sundays and holidays, I have gone to the same school and subsequently, the same bus route.

Every day I see the paddy fields framing the vast cerulean sky, with its cotton like clouds being reflected on the field, and even though the road is pockmarked with dents, that route has a small part of my heart deep in its clutches.

I know, “it’s not that deep” but it’s quite a bittersweet feeling when every day, I have gone about the same path and see new neighbourhoods slowly coming up in place of those familiar fields, I wonder how in a few more years, I might forget the remembrance of it altogether. Memory tends to fade with time and so will this part of my life.

And I often dream about the life I have ahead of me, my goals, career, aspirations, the passion projects, the freedom, the…everything! It might be so that I’m heavily influenced by the romanticized versions of college life by the movies and books I consume regularly, but who knows what the future holds?

 But even right now, it feels as if my world is blooming, little by little, with every experience I gain and with every new polaroid, card or the heartfelt memoir in my shoebox that I treasure.

But amidst all this steadfast shift, there is only one experience (apart from painting). One experience which acts like an anchor within it all, the time spent travelling on the school bus.

Because don’t get me wrong, I love change. I had embraced the idea of constant transformations long ago, it is after all, the rule of the universe. But even someone like me needs some sort of a time period where I can muse upon my thoughts while zoned out or simply gaze at a well-known path for the millionth time and still spot something fascinating or unusual.

Every time I spot a dog sleeping under a tree or in the shade of a house, or a buffalo submerged in mud, I receive a pleasant surprise. Sometimes I locate a person gossiping with the street vendor with chai in hand or a lady carrying a basket of vegetables.

People sometimes remark that I tend to notice things more clearly than the next person, and honestly, I agree. But it also means that my mind is continually engaged in the meticulous scrutiny of the world. Thus, it is a gratifying experience for me when I get to calm this train of thoughts for a bit and just enjoy the journey, however ordinary it may be.

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