The visit came almost real after lots of uncertainty & difficulties like flight delay, road blocks @ Ahmedabad due to rains, non-availablity of bus tickets but yes, finally I did make it. That trip made me believe in lot many things, including the Paulo Coelho's quote in The Alchemist, "...when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it." ...whether it was last auto at Ahmedabd airport or a traffic cop emerging from nowhere at ankur charrasta to make a way for my riksha or someone cancelling ticket at last moment in Eagle travels for Rajkot on eve of Raksha Bandhan (its very difficult to get a'bad-rajkot ticket on such days) or a collegian couple discussing their love for each other sitting next to me or a refresing coffee @ darshan after a long time or that late night call after a long time, I think it was the entire universe that day help me to re-live my moments.
The journey was tiring but as soon as I entered home, everything vanished, just like I was here just few second before. Indeed life always does a full circle and sometimes brings you back to where you belonged. This visit made me believe in it.
Lastly I got a surprise when I had my hand on a small notebook (perhaps my tution notebook) that was there along with some of old books I (or my mom) preserved, and I was quick to recognize four lines of a poem, I was very fond of at that time & which defined myself, which I had written on last page along with my traditional three-dot signature... a Robert Frost poem 'Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening'...
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Inking down the entire poem, as a memory & tribute to the life that I lived, not only on that trip, but much before, a period that defines me and made me what I am today...
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| and miles to go before I sleep |
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
