What do I carry after all?

[This is an excerpt from the diary, based on the regular over thought, and many discussions with a couple of friends, at various instants throughout.]

I am walking. I have been walking and have walked for 22 years… This was a by lane, where I stepped onto the road some four years back. As I walk, I see some light, realize the tunnel’s end, but there are no fears, as I calculate the time, fifteen days to divert onto a different track.

These are the last fifteen days here… These are the last fifteen days with friends, the last fifteen days of a lifestyle. These are the last fifteen days of this bonding, the last fifteen days of a mindset. These are the last fifteen days of a style of breathing, the last for a different purpose of beating.

These fifteen days seem no different. They are the same steaming hot, drudging old days, the same grumbles and the same laughter of the past four years. Expectations I don’t know what I’d harboured for these fifteen days, but they resemble nothing but from the four years, any regular day.

A spring of joy or a spurge of exhilaration isn’t a stretch of months and years, or of days and hours. The spurge of bliss is subtle, concealed in tiny moments spaced in moments of thoughts. All I need to realize these tiny moments, hidden so abundantly in each hour, day, consequently so abundantly in the months and years. And so, I crib not away these moments of smiles, laughter and giggles.

As the passage of this tunnel ends, as I see the light approaching ahead, as I see moving on to a separate track, I ruminate, in vain for I knew about this lighted end, knew of the new route, of this separation, but I think, what did I collect on this four year path? I think and crave for an answer.

The purpose of course of this path, education, may be fulfilled or not, relies on the individual’s quest. But deeper I think of the purpose, not education, but the purpose of this road to pick in particular. Destiny some would mumble. I think of the bonds made, why and what next? What do I carry along?

Perhaps a company on this road, I heard a few saying; perhaps not to be lonely for the years on this route. Perhaps that true, but would be truer if I tag a meaning to it.

All I take with me ahead is a way of life, a way to walk. Perhaps some new strength to rely upon on stony ways, perhaps a self-cushioning heart now, or maybe a heart that’s no more stone carved but is little wax, or perhaps just a style of shaking a leg, dancing away in merry. Perhaps, I carry a mode of dealing the world, the newer roads – practical or spiritual.

All I take is me, moulded and structured, defined and redefined, carved and hammered, painted and finished with touches by the umpteen other souls associated with me.

My ultimate destination is Him, the complete route being service to Him, his creations – animate or inanimate. And this four years expedition brought me closer to the destination. Companionship I did find for the route, and will find ahead on several walks and several tracks, but a meaning to this company is camaraderie that eases out the journey, pedagogy that helps me walk. I’ve learnt to walk better – clubbing their tricks to what I learnt home.

Lucky are those who carry away soul mates after the four years of voyage. Luckier are those who carry not one but many strings tied to the soul, if not a soul mate but mates of the soul. Of course I’ll carry companionship from this lane back to my journey, where I carried a few before too; people who aren’t yet done with the colouring of my canvas.

For people who intend not, but drift away, am glad for the tint, texture, hue and shade you rendered to my painting, for your mould, for your style of gait, and thank you for the beautiful time and memories, my heart would need to cherish whenever it finds a void, a dullness around, or simply when it misses you.