Fernweh…

My travel fantasies are neither confined to specific locations on a map or a specific duration of time, nor caged by the assurance of comfort and convenience. As all free-willed birds seldom are. They’re simply a state of mind.

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For months now I’ve been haunted by the peace and beauty of a small house, intricately carved, in the isolated hill-town of Malana. I fell in love with the little house captured by my camera. The view I imagined from the balcony; warm, cozy evenings spent in a dimly lit room with wooden panels; a job that pays little, an experience that can’t be bought; of green tea on the balcony and a walk in the meadow; to settle on a bench in an ocean of maple leaves, and watch the subtle changes in the panorama of mountains facing me… Mystic and tranquil.

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The imagery is built of course, with little regard for the actual place. Somewhere, some day I ought to stumble upon a place of the sort again. And pass more than a few fleeting hours there. One I’ve been knitting so many stories around.

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And some destinations are a complete contrast to my chain of thoughts otherwise. On brighter days, they hit like a tidal wave, and open my eyes, rather, clear my vision for an entirely contrary state of mind and lifestyle and travel. In retrospect, I think, it’s also often the idea of the people that leaves a more lasting impression than the place itself. Again, it doesn’t have to be Paris or New York or Bombay particularly.. It’s just a state of mind. It’s life- loud and vivacious!

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There’s another photo I came across a while back, (and the reason I was moved to write this post) shuffling through the million photos I’ve collected from different trips, friends and websites. It’s a town at night, set at the foreground of a medieval castle, lit by yellow street lamps. I see myself teetering along the narrow alleyways visible between brick houses; or trying to put this beautiful town into words at a small cafe, which I’m sure lies behind that blind turn; or smiling at a stranger who’ll spare me the effort, because in a look, he understands. Oh! There’s something about this place!

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A place looks like a Spanish town to me sometimes, or Pondicherry, but what does it matter, surprise me! Whatever the town is, whether it exists in reality or is a fragment of an artist’s enviable imagination, I would someday find my way to its brick lanes, its sea shore, its markets, its mountains, its people, its history…

 

So that’s the thing, I find myself in paintings and pictures, I become a part of a friend’s story as if it were my own, my fascination goes beyond what can be scheduled and scripted. I see myself often, walking enchanted and a little uncertain, silenced and content, down narrow lanes of small towns or vivid plazas! A traceless soul in nameless towns… A wandering Wind…

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No, I haven’t felt a touch of its culture, but I can breathe the air; I haven’t witnessed its nights, but I’ve heard it call to me, I haven’t smelt the soil but I’ve been touched by the warmth of the people in the mountains, I haven’t savoured it yet, but I know what it tastes like…. Freedom.. 🙂

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4 thoughts on “Fernweh…

  1. Pingback: The Wanderer | My Atheist Blog

  2. Pingback: Daily Prompt: The Wanderer, the Experience of an Undead Lifetime | Chronicles of an Anglo Swiss

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