Evening is creeping slowly on the threshold of west. Every travel has slowed down. Shadows are much longer than they were at noon. Knells of camels have lowered down perhaps due to the exertion of the whole day’s walk. Sheep and goats are moving slowly ahead of the master boy or girl itching her head with both hands. Crows are going back and other birds are also lined up to the sweet homes after the day’s journey. Sun is getting red in the lap of west. Recalling the journey in the evening brings the mix of smiles and tears at the same time; pain and gains in the same den!
I am looking back from here and remembering the names who brought about smiles to my lips and heart and also counting the names who did the job otherwise. Unfortunately the count of the later is bigger. But the road of life is full of such people. All information is not worth-remembering. Home is another metaphor of travel within. Reaching home doesn’t necessarily mean reaching the destination.
Well, the bells in the neck of my camel are ringing in a slow voice. Camel is tired, torn, and too down but the travel has to go on. Just a night for rest, a little nap, and then on another travel in the wake. Travel from the first breath to the last. And my travel stops for a while to get another go in the next morning. Travel is the metaphor of life whether its in plane or on the ship of desert. We all are on a journey, a consistent journey. Destination is an allusion that keeps the travelers engaged otherwise destination itself is the metaphor of end of time. Search goes on in every condition. Travel withing knows no touch stone, no ultimate destination.