The Bug that did not travel

After all the five plus decades spent rooted to his living place. Imaginch felt suffocated and wanted to get away from it and imbibe a different environment. This thought was circulating in his mind like an old ceiling fan, anemic with a weakened coil and condenser unit working in tandem.

Taking time to organise his epic tour itinerary, he downloaded from the attic books on General Knowledge - bought to tutor his off-springs. He taught them line by line, in his monotonic voice, drumming on their eardrums. Smart children they were! Unable to withstand the verbal tedium, they came up with effective countermeasures very quickly. They switched off their audio systems.!

Whatever he does it will have plenty of preparation - scribbling pads, writing instruments, stick files and such paraphernalia. Next action called for categorising his interest - places of historical, religious, scenic and geological importance. Furious noting down ensued with such a vehemence; the deep impression of his writing left the pages in tears. But he took his time; worrying his hurry might make him miss something important. Poor scribbling pads -they resembled heavily bandaged casualty patients!

    Armed with collected basic information, he then took to marking up places of interest. A large-scale map, giving company to those GK books, was brought down from the attic. The dusting and cleansing process went through with his characteristic dedication. Then, drawing pins of different colours were stuck onto the map. When the operation behind closed doors came to an end, the map lay on the table looking like a catalogue of galaxies, an astronomical nightmare!

With painstaking care, he completed packing and stacking, again behind closed doors – not the one to broadcast his plans in advance. He has experienced “a slip between the cup and the lip” many times over. Selection of clothes did not give him much trouble. He had shirts of the same colour with differing designs and pants in shades of grey and black. Looking at the wallet, that had seen better days, he took an impulsive decision to buy one soon.

At each stage of planning, his trip turned out to be more and more complicated. His inner voice sneaked in a snide comment “great, you have found out a simple method to create a complex situation" He ignored this voice over. Never to let someone else to have the last laugh, he searched for a face-saving solution. Changing track, he started to estimate the size of the hole, this trip will leave in his pocket, financially.

The size of the hole scared the day light out of him. He understood that his over ambitious travel plan cannot be sustained on his current savings, even if he manages to scrape from the bottom of the barrel. He wondered why the voice over was keeping silence. Calm before storm? No such luck for him. Once again, not to disappoint him, his mind-speak came up with another unkind remark “look for renewable sources - fossil fuel is depleting". 

Historical sites have a history of their own: war and destruction, conquests, defeats and plunder. Some sites host monuments for constructive love and peace. Nobody is in a hurry to change the past or let go the bygones. These sites and monuments would still outlive him by a few decades until catastrophic events occur. Even then the ruins remain as testament to "historic" events. He decided to consciously postpone this part of the visit for now! Soon, clarity peeked through the layers of brown matter, where from his inner voice has been shooting snide remarks at him.

Thousands laboured  shedding sweat and flesh, to give life to architectural marvels called temples. The idols of presiding deities and other lesser deities speak volumes about the capacity to visualise and of the devotion of the sculptors who made these divine figures come to life. Of the millions who throng to have darshan of installed idols, how many have had a vision of the deities?  How many could lay claim to the devotion of the sculptors who brought life to a block of rock? Imaginch had no qualms to accept that he had no such gifts.

Temple visit, in effect, boils down to: Which King built and when?  What astronomical significance has been considered? Which deity should be worshipped for what purpose? Is it to have a fleeting darshan of the deities and a glance at the grand architecture! Why not pray to the higher power from one's house itself?

Religion, construction and destruction of monuments and ruins of conquests are like substance and shadow. But the misfortune is in the nature of the light we use to cast the shadow. Is enlightenment the missing link? Since it is a planned visit without deeper understanding, Imaginch decided to wait till he could develop "visualisation with devotion".

For him geology meant from topsoil to mines, descending to the bowels of the earth, without any distinction in between. Though, he himself was never clear about what beauty could be there to behold and why he wanted to visit such places! He retained the proposed visit in the active list since his inner tormentor had not yet come out with any wisecracks.

This thought must have disturbed it. Waking up from its slumber, the inner voice frantically searched for an ammunition to shoot down Imaginch's hard -to- fathom yearnings to be with sludge, swirling and suffocating dust, unbearable heat and din of earthmoving machineries. It wondered, "who in his right mind would want to visit these eyesores?"

It could not conjure up a drilling remark to upset him. But its silence spoke volumes into Imaginch's ears! He unilaterally decided to drop the plan like "hot potatoes or rather like hot coal".

 The positive takeaways from the truncated travel plan, appealed and gladdened him:

1. He did not spend money on a new wallet, in a hurry. A wise move!

2. His decision silenced the inner voice and now he could himself say " hot potatoes or rather like hot coal"

Before discarding his copious notes on the aborted grand tour, Imaginch wanted to glance at the section under scenic beauties. The moment his inner heard the rustle of papers, it became alert for possible breach of its tacit understanding. Imaginch's mind accustomed to his miserly ways, flexed its muscles and prompted the inner voice to say something. 

This time, the inner voice decided to come out loud and clear, like a seasoned orator. Imaginch's eardrums reverberated with the slogan "Go local and not global". Out of hundreds of stored images, his brain pulled up one of a verdant grassland with clumps of trees, undulating terrain, snaking pathways on Martian-like red soil, and in the distance a pool or a lake shining like a mirror. Fearing rejection, it left a hint that may be some wild animals could also be there! To further sweeten the deal, it brought out a Google map and showed that the place is at a walkable distance from his house.

Imaginch decided that scenic beauty is natural and open to anyone willing to hike, bike or walk. Sparkling, gurgling and roaring water; mesmerising snow with bone chilling teasers; sound of music from swaying trees; blooms in riots of colours with smiles and fragrance! Insects, and wild animals lording over this nature's kitty!  He was prepared to add the missing elements, to the place of his visit, and willing to explore this imaginary world. A demanding, heady feeling, promising limitless joy galvnised his entire body. He decided to pack and walk with this thought, hoping that the inner voice will accompany him in total silence.