We all need to fill our lives with colours. That’s why we are here, that’s the very purpose of this unending journey between birth and death. That is the only reason we exist. That’s our duty towards our soul, as we try to reach from one end of this spectrum to the other.
See, the universe is symbolic. You can find the biggest answers in the simplest of places. You’ll understand the architecture of the infinite space by looking into a telescope, as well as looking into a glass full of water. You have the opportunity to look at it from both sides and understand. Because you, the little speck of organic matter, have the privilege to be in the journey for now. The answer is just as much out there as is inside you.
Like the darkest depths of the sea have its own specks of light, as does the deepest expanse of the universe. The opposites mirror. Black and white. Darkness and luminosity. Colours are in between, during the journey.
So swim up or be in a freefall; the closer you get to the surface, the vibrant the spectrum becomes, and so does the canvas. But at both ends, there is nothing but black and white, the light & the lack of it, and the way it balances itself out.
And that is why we travel, especially when the colours around us are getting dull. We travel to let experiences fill our lives with newer shades. We travel to complete our journey, from one end of our rainbow, to the other. Or just to the nearby city. So we did too.
It was 5:00 in the evening when we decided to move our asses out of the house and into the car. The plan was to drive till Daman, stay for a night, and come back the next day, since servitude of our souls still lay faithfully in the hands of the those who sign our cheques. In short, employment blues. So will filled the tank up, and left. It was a clear night, with cool winds, and a straight stretch of tarmac that led us directly into the union territory within few hours. The drive wasn’t taxing, the distance wasn’t much, and we were quite simply beaming about the fact that we had indeed reached an individually unexplored city in the same time it takes to travel back home from work during the festival days.
Anyhow, we checked in, stepped out, had a rather conspicuous dinner, and somehow found the hotel room to be quite interesting in a functional sort of way. The slumber that night was peaceful, and the morning was late. We checked out, went to see a fort, got mildly fascinated with the architecture, spoke a bit about the historical significance and the faded spirit of adventure in mankind.
Sarcasm apart, it really was quite fascinating to realize that people came in boats from Portugal, parked their floaters on the shores, saw the land and thought – ‘We are going to build a fort here. No two. We shall build two forts, one of either side of the bayou. And we will build a 110ft tall church with our bare hands, and cover it with mysterious Christian symbolism, sculptures and frescos. We will also build an entire city inside it, and wait till the time the locals get powerful enough to overthrow is and take away all of our stuff.’
All we did was gawk at it, walked about, got tired, urinated all over, found the sun to be too harsh, got hungry, clicked a few pics and then broke for lunch. All in a matter of few hours, so it was quite clear that we wouldn’t have cut the cheese if we were to live in that era. It’s just too much hard work. Hence a sense of guilty respect for the ones who did.
I think I digressed a bit. So getting back to the road trip. We had lunch and left Daman. By night we were back to her apartment. I don’t think the dog even noticed us gone. We settled in, spoke about how refreshing the trip was, and then prepared for office the next morning.
I know this sounds very cut and dry, unromantic even. Why didn’t I write a suppler piece, you would ask. Why didn’t I elongate the moments, why didn’t I find nuances and funny perspective to life in a small town? Why didn’t I include all the small adventures that were a part of it? Why didn’t I mention the moments of love and affection, of joy and passion, or humour and warmth? There surely must have been few.
Yes, there were. Lots of them. Very special moments. Some of them firsts even. But that’s the whole point of all this gibberish. To remind you and ourselves what travel does to you. It adds colours to our dulled our lives that dehydrate under the artificial illumination lamps. It makes us want more of life, and hope that there surely must be. There must be something more to life than just pent up anger, workspace agendas and nagging chores. And these little flakes keep your mind unjulating, keeps you feeling alive, makes you get up in the morning the next day with some fluid hope running through your veins. And also, it keeps the human connections exciting, especially if you are the kind who has a tendency to get polarized over time, like we do.
Here are some of the images we clicked. Hope you like them, we did.