“I notice a journey in your words and your passion to stay on the course. It’s beautiful, heartfelt and honest. But, tell me, what is your destination? What do you want to achieve? When in this journey will you say, “I’m here and I’m done and I’m happy.”? Does this journey ever end?” she asked.
It was a simple question yet it took me by surprise. I wasn’t prepared for this. I became inarticulate and couldn’t say anything convincing. I don’t think she noticed. There was more to come.
“Sometimes, it feels like you are like a ship in the ocean, sailing away from every harbor you know. But, you are forgetting — even when you are drifting away, you are always heading somewhere. Where is your somewhere?”
It was another strike to an already stuttering voice of my convictions. It wasn’t over yet.
“When have you experienced contentment? What gives you peace? What image do you see when you hear ‘home’?”
I was totally mute by now. There was nothing that I needed to vocalize. It’s not that I have never been content, neither do I feel that I am restless. But not being restless isn’t peace and she meant home as a feeling, not a dwelling.
I am very thrifty with my time and since we were together after a very long time, I had told her, “This day of mine is yours to have”. There shall always be poetry, even in proses. Now, I was re-evaluating what day might be planned for me.
“I am done with questions. I got too many of them. I seek some answers today. Have you got any?”
I knew I didn’t.
“Do you think it’s easy to have a passion? Feeding its insatiable hunger with your desires, pouring your wishes into a bottomless chalice, trying to satisfy an unquenchable thirst? Passion, what if it will pass away one day? What will we be left with? What will remain? What will stay?”
This was getting queer. Monologues were usually my thing and she just moved from directing questions at me to an inclusive we. Odd the things you notice when you on the other end of a monologue.
“What do we really wish to accomplish? What are we seeking? What is it that we want the world should understand? Do we even understand it ourselves? Can we even express it with certainty or put it to words? How will labeling the society merciless, inconsiderate or unsympathetic will help any of us? Isn’t there an answer?”
She was unstoppable. I could relate to everything she was saying. These things, they needed to be spoken, but are rarely verbalized. I knew she isn’t seeking an answer from me, but from herself, from anyone. Maybe, she just wanted to know if there is one?
“No one told us this path of wandering will be easy, but still, I never thought it will be filled with these many trials. Tell me, if we don’t know the destination, how would we know how far we are from home? How many more choices and sacrifices are yet to be made?”
It wasn’t about me anymore. It was us, not just us — me and her. But, us — a whole. Sometimes the smallest of questions that alienate us, when explored honestly, unites us all.
By now her voice lost sternness. She took a deep breath and asked, “This journey — is this really ours if we don’t know where we headed? Don’t you wanna find out?”