I’ve always wanted to cycle down an empty road with the mountains in the distance and along a rolling meadow…perhaps picking wild flowers on the way. When I went with J and a group of fellow enthusiast to cycle in the interiors of villages near Malshej Ghat, I realized that reality was not that easy or romantic. The gently undulating road passing through stretches of yellowed field with the hills in the distant was straight out of my dream. But covering even a stretch of 5kms on a geared-cycle was too much for me. My head spun like a top and my knees buckled. With age and no exercise, some dreams should be left at that…..a dream.
The next day however, I managed to salvage my crushed dream and rode 15kms downhill on the fantastic stretch of Malshej Ghat. The clouds kept rolling in and out and the wind was high…tearing through my hair as I reached a speed of 45km per hour zipping around bends.
I’m waiting for the rains to come and to go there again. Its beautiful at this time….I can only imagine just how breathtaking it would be when it pours and washes everything clean.
The yellowed leaves fluttered down from the tree outside my window. The sun was golden and a lazy breeze carried them far away. I suffered again a bout of nostalgia, remembering my childhood days. Wonder if ever life will give me another chance to be as carefree as I was some three decades ago.
Why doesn’t it feel weird to actually dream of my own death?