Traveling has a way of slipping into your psychology and playing around with what you had unwittingly assumed as a natural way of life. The relentless pursuit of materialism begins to seem absurd. The regular mundane routine of a workaholic, not unlike your humble writer, feels perfunctory and dull. Your imagination discovers the vastness of its own being. The childlike enthusiasm that was rendered invalid by the sophistication and methodical mannerisms of the metropolis resurfaces, and amazes and amuses you.
The nostalgia of the simpler times that were oblivious to the struggles to outsmart the world leads way to a myriad of emotions buried deep within your soul. Ecstasy, when you race to the end of the road with a friend. Satisfaction, when you eat a simple yet delicious meal. Contentment, when you conclude a hard day’s work. Compassion, when you acknowledge the endurance of those around you. Empathy, when you witness the pain of a passer-by. Happiness, when you relish the company of your fellow traveler. Awe, when you finally shut down your gadgets and take in the beauty of the natural. And, on and on, we rediscover the long-lost versions of our vivid selves. Re-acquaintance with your very own emotive profundity might startle you when confronted with the depths of dense pine-tree valleys.
Trekking down the off-beat roads, untouched by the screeching rubber tyres of the automotive, for the promise of a breathtaking view of the landscape pumps the adrenaline to confront your inhibitions and further push your physical limits. You are acquainted with your own strengths that would otherwise have been almost impossible to find.
Your skeptical writer has never been one to admire the aesthetics of the monsoons. The vital-for-life downpour was always accompanied by the cringing imagery of muddy potholes and deafening horn blows from traffic inflaming the bitter burn of the monotony of everyday commute by manifold. And yet, sitting in the balcony of one's lodgings, facing the bounty apple orchards, the picturesque hilly landscape and the narrow walking trails opening into the expansive lush green of the mountainous meadows stirs an unfamiliar affinity towards the heavenly showers. They do not make you cringe anymore. They do not ignite bitterness anymore. Instead, the raindrops feel like mother nature reaching out to soothe your aching soul and to wash away all the misery with her nurturing touch.
‘Mother’ nature. You study the term as a part of the highly unpopular environmental lessons in school but never really appreciate the underlying undying truth of it until you wander into the raw wilderness of the mountains. Ravishing the freshly plucked apples and pears, quenching thirst with water that miraculously reaches you when most needed by streamlining its way from the rocky terrain, breathing in the purity of the zephyrs that carry the distinct hints of moist soil with them, resting on the unkempt grass to re-energise for the ensuing adventures; all of which resonate with the unadulterated and unencumbered love that is bestowed by your beloved mother.
So travel, my readers. Explore your inner selves by reconnecting with the natural beauty of this wondrous and vibrant world. Seek out as many quirky and euphoric experiences as you can. Live while you are alive because it's now or never!
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