No matter how far we run, we have to acknowledge that we will end up where we were. We do live in a spherical world after all.
Usually when we run, we take well paved roads lined with fragrant flowers and bright lights. Many a time, I’ve found myself on yet another vibrant street only to stop in my tracks to see that the flowers are merely fake, sprayed with intoxicating perfumes; and the heat of the lights burn you or blind you when you stop to look at them. The glossy pavement is but a layer of tar hiding a myriad of portholes and sink holes waiting to devour you. Others on this street wear blinders that keep their eyes on things that they have programmed themselves to see. Never expect their scope of vision to capture you with your foot clamped in a vice-like crack on the road. They will pass you by – deaf or indifferent to your cries. Its not their fault entirely, they are unwittingly overwhelmed.
When you find yourself in that moment, you may finally tend to look back. What I have been surprised with time and again is that no matter how far I travel into this pretty sloping road, the path out of it always seems just within reach. A short way behind me the air is sweeter, the light is an iridescent glow that cools the eyes. But the ground is harder and ill-paved. Not many turn back; not long enough to start investing in pavement anyway. And the ones who do remain long enough, know better than to bother with such frivolities. Their hands are full.
The trapped foot is freed when the sight of this draws you more than the promise of an easy road. And before you know it, there you are giving a hand to someone else a step behind you. The problem is, they remember me. Do you remember who used to be beside you? Do you see the spots on their extended hands? Will it stop you from taking their hands?
Look around – we all have ink, dirt, faeces, blood and crud on our hands; and we’re all pretty much on the same street. Only our direction – and perception, can be changed.