Time traveler’s journey down the road.

Maybe the journey on the long road was a new beginning. A new start for something. It all started with a cry in a small room with an unidentifiable stench. An unknowing, involuntary cry. The cry of acceptance, of welcome maybe. A cry surrounded by smiles. A cry that created smiles. A cry that was the predecessor to a long journey down the road. A road that was new and long. A road that had no definite ending or a fixed route. But the journey needs to be made. It has to be done. The road has to be traveled.

It’s both dark and bright. Definite intervals of darkness follow definite periods of light. It was a law that maintained itself. The journey has to be made through the darkness and the light. Dimly lit lights show the path to the journey. It’s the guide to this journey. the dim light shows the footprints that belonged to people who traveled this path before. Maybe those footprints are meant to be followed. Maybe they could tell you the reason for this journey. Maybe they could guide you to the right path to be followed for the journey. Or it could be avoided. The lights makes these footprints visible. Those footprints which would otherwise be hidden in the impregnable darkness.

I am not alone on this journey, but I am not accompanied either. I wish for help. I wish for company. Somewhere down the road there are people like me. Completing their journey. Trying to reach where they are supposed to. Similar to me. They could help me. Give me company. Maybe we could finish the journey together. Maybe the journey wouldn’t be all that bad with similar kind of people around. But some reach where they are supposed to reach. Their destinations. Much before I reach mine. Loneliness creeps in along with thoughts about those who are not along. The journey still goes on. I see shadows around me. Shadows that are similar to my past. Maybe I see someone’s past. I walk along the path. Shadows around me reminding me of my past. The journey takes me ahead. Ahead into the future. Every step I take is my past. I can turn back and see my past. My shadows remain there. Those shadows I see around me are the pasts of someone in the future. I live. I create shadows. I create a past.

I look back and I see footprints. Similar to those I follow. I strain harder for a clearer look. Do I see someone similar to me? A smaller me? Following those footprints that I made. Am I making a path for someone to follow? I remember that I am following footprints. Footprints made by someone. I am following someone. Maybe that person up ahead in this journey, turns back at his past and seeing me, he wonders like I do. Is this what this journey is about? Creating footprints? To follow and to be followed?

I walk ahead into the road. I imagine. Who created this path? Why are everyone on this journey? Why do I follow? And then I see there are deviations to the path. Deviations that create more paths. Paths that look less travelled. Paths that I could create. Do I have it in me too take the path less travelled, or to create a new path? Maybe I can. But I look back and I see images follow my path, my footprints. I think. Will they be ready to follow me to this new path? Will I be responsible to their journeys if I make a deviation. Should I? shouldn’t I? I walk ahead.

I see people similar to me, crossing me. No they are not similar to me. I see they plan much ahead into the future. They have ideas. Something that they think they could implement in their journey. They race ahead of me. I walk wearily. Desire. A longing to be like them builds in me. I strain myself. I can’t be them. They hurry past me. Into the future. I see them. They cast footprints. Somehow not similar to mine. Those are shallow. Mine are deep. They fade soon and I see mine still in the past. I wish I could be like them. Finish the journey soon. Know what lies beyond the end of the journey. But all I can do is wish. They hurry past me and I walk watching them. A longing to be like them.

I reach much ahead in the journey. Far from where I started. I look back. I can’t see the place from where it all began. All has faded. I see a past. I look ahead. I see the future. It’s all dark and blurred. I see change. Its spring. The path blossoms. It looks beautiful. I see a different path. Lot different from what I was walking on till now. Is it only for me? Do others experience the same? Are their paths beautiful too now? Or is it just a feeling? Or is it just because of someone I meet during this journey? Is it that person who has changed it all? Is it what I feel for that person that makes me think of having a beautiful road? I feel light from the inside. I feel happy. I hope for this to last till the end of the journey.

I see other’s paths along mine. Paths those are almost parallel to mine. Acquaintances. Some have paths similar to mine. Some have harder, rougher paths. Some have easier, smoother ones. But all of them travel on their paths. And then I find some paths end. Abruptly. I see that some try hard. But not hard enough. Some give up. They succumb to the conditions of the path. They try to reach the end, but when they don’t, when they feel they are weak enough to complete the journey, they create their destination themselves. And I see their paths end. End abruptly.

I walk ahead. I wish to know what lies ahead. I try to look harder. I stare into the future. I see nothing. Its blurred. Not created yet. Something that matter and space and time has built but still remains blurred and unclear. It needs me at the center to turn into reality. I walk into it and I see it turn. I walk ahead and it turns again. Turns to my past. Matter and space and time still exist there but I can’t be there. It needs me to be out of it to turn into what it is. Strange. Past. Present. Future.

I see people who don’t travel the path. They sit along the path. I don’t understand why. Whiling away their time. Inconsiderate of the journey. I watch them. They seem happy. They seem unaware of the creation of the future or the created past. They see the present. They live in the present. They don’t turn back to see the past. To see what they have created or to see who follow them. Neither do they look ahead into the future and feel the need to be there. They just while away the present. The future, they walk into, only when they feel their present has nothing new to offer. Their journey is slow.

I walk. Deep into the blurred road ahead. Creating, and leaving behind the created. I see paths that have gruesome end. Tragic ends. Some of the travelers of these paths look familiar. I pause to look and I recognize them. They were the ones who had hurried past me. Hurried into the future according to their wish and now end up beside the path as corpse. I realize. The longing to be like them was a mistake. This journey has a purpose. And that is why we are on the path to this journey. Each one has a path for them. A path unique and genuine only for the traveler who is supposed to be on this path. I have to be on my path. My journey is different from others. I should be on my path. I should be me. I am here to be on this path. Desire and longing are distractions on this journey.

I keep walking. I don’t see the end to this journey. But I keep walking. I have questions. Why am I here on this journey? Who put me here on this journey? Will the end too be similar to the start; in a small room with the similar stench? I stumble, I get up and I walk. I walk with a hope that maybe answers to these will be found on the way to the end. But I ask what the end is? How do I know the end? I look forward for the end, unaware of what lie beyond…