Spurned yet resolute heart

 

        

 

 The river was in full-spate, the sky overcast. The sound of the water was soothing yet strangely disturbing. Children frolicked in the fallow field adjacent to his verdant patch of land. He looked skyward anticipating a heavy shower and hurriedly put away the tools, as he wound up for the day. A quiet satisfaction cloaked his being as he had managed to sow the last of the saplings singlehandedly after three days of strenuous, back breaking work.

In his ancient, tiny, sleepy and extremely picturesque hamlet, the village folk revered him, though he was still learning and not as adept at the occupation he had inherited from his forefathers. He had, however, unleashed a silent revolution of sorts by introducing few innovative techniques that he had picked up along the way.

One such addition to the daily milieu was a mini-tractor as he liked to call it, a smaller version of the one used in the plains; but this was more suitable in the hilly terrain and only a few could afford to own one; there were all of three in the entire village.

However, the villagers had worked out a very interesting system of taking turns to use this resource and pooled in some money for fuel and maintenance. If anyone used it for longer than the agreed upon time, they would have to shell out some extra money at the end of three months, to balance off the emergency savings. Life here was simpler than what he had known till a while ago. In his words it was collaborative in the true sense.

There was a quiet yet omnipresent festive ring to the evening, even though he had been riddled by an uncanny despair in the past few days. The sky was painted in strips of ochre-orange and was a delight to behold. He had been grappling to identify the reason for his moroseness but in vain; he had tried several times though, to resolve this palpable turmoil. Today was no different: he let all thoughts, random, focused and bizarre run amok in his head, making no effort to stop the bombardment.

The walk to his quaint hut, where he lived alone was extremely invigorating and he looked forward to it every day. It was a collation of several meditative moments, snatches of which seemed to be from another lifetime.

The pain wasn’t physical,

it drilled a hole in his heart,

he’d resigned to his fate,

but every day was a fresh start.

Had he lost the way, he wondered?

Delving deep into random moments,

he felt complete; but soliloquized had

he, his life unwittingly squandered?

Questions and doubts loomed all

around as he traversed the chosen path.

Was it a normal quest for all?  

Or was he just struggling between

being a monk and a

deviously sheepish devil at call?

The next day dawned bright and clear, eliminating the feeling of desolation that had hung over him like a massive shadow all night. Visibly cheerful, he went about the morning routine humming to himself, whilst mentally listing all the points he had thought of presenting at the impending meeting.

The village head and some elders had asked for his counsel as they were eagerly planning the launch of a small center for the village women. Winters were particularly harsh and almost everyone had to stay home bound and thus learning new skills other than the ones they were already good at such as weaving and knitting would certainly help them earn an extra buck, contributing to their well-being and the prosperity of the village too.

The village head was happy with the turn out and the discussions; a deadline was set to roll out their plan. Finally, at peace with himself he thought of making a trip to town the following day, to buy some raw material. Going into town was always accompanied with a sense of panic as it was a life, he had willfully given up along with his dreams of settling down in the conventional sense in a conformist world. The girl he had been besotted by and later wooed had walked out on him fifteen years to the day, a hazy memory now, but a wound as fresh as yesterday. In a flash he was able to pinpoint the reason for his gloominess— the rancor he had felt all the while and the bitterness that had settled in somewhere in his heart.   

As he boarded the last bus to his village a strange feeling gnawed at him, something he thought he would could never experience or feel again; his heart beat faster but he was unable again to fathom the reason. And in just a miniscule moment as his eyes caught sight of the tallest peak in the distance and the tug of the mountains, he felt whole again, the baggage of vengeance had eventually been set down and he was ready to reemerge…make a comeback and with a strong resolve to never return; not to town but to that point in time which had held him back until now.   

No one knew of his story in the village, they all just thought of him as the one who had returned to his roots but they often wondered why?

As the bus made its way up the slopes that reminded him of his childhood, he settled down to enjoy the ride ‘home’ sealing the day with a deep resolve to bury the past and move on…