Traveller

I have embarked a journey. Journey to a place where winds live. It is not a mere adventure my travel. I seek an answer. I seek an answer to a question “What is beauty?”

I went door to door, asked as many people I could. Most of them pointed to a sanatorium, some of them had no clue and one of them told “Go ask the winds!  They have been a force that has dwelled since primordial times. They would certainly know wouldn’t they?” But caution to be exercised he said. The path is not easy he said. They need to trust you and they don’t trust you easily he said.

Winds have a unique way of testing you. They gauge you with the fiery winds, anneal you with the chill, wash you out with a downpour and bombard with hail stones until from all the traits you might possess, a trait that defines you has been singled out. If it is worthy enough they will grant you an audience.

I don’t know how long I have been travelling. I have lost track of time, lost track of people, lost track of living, but haven’t lost track of being human yet. Yes, my physical weakness, my weary eyes, my bleeding nose, my cold ears, my parched lips, my stooped shoulders, my frozen hands, my hungry stomach, my cramping legs they all remind me, I am still human. All that keeps me beating is my inhumane heart, keeps reminding me it’s the land of winds I seek. It reminds me that it is just a test. It tells me not to worry. It tells me I’ll keep you warm and beating. It tells me to crack on with it. It tells me to endure.

Seems like a couple of more months have passed. I can barely walk now. My walking stick has long withered. The winds are too boisterous for me to hear the voices inside my head. The fog is too thick. Makes you feel trapped.

I fall. I lie still. The sharp, dry, cold stones are not at all helping.

But then something starts beating again, wants me to go on. I explain, I can’t stand, I don’t have the strength. It says, well if you can’t walk, if you can’t move, if you don’t give up all you have, how can the great winds even trust you? If the question has dawned on you, it must be because you have enough strength to uncover it. Whether or not you are able to sacrifice your being for it, decides that eventually you’ll uncover it or no.

I start dragging my self. Inch by inch. Feeling the excruciating surface. Pinch by pinch. Thrusting myself forward.  This is all I have. Winds! What ever you give, I’ll endure. I went forward stone by stone. Until.. there were none!

Fog suddenly clears up. I am lying on the edge of a cliff. What lies ahead of me as I peep through is land where the great winds exist in perfect symphony. The clouds weave like hair locks, The pools look like charcoaled charming eyes. Nothing is static. The hurricane at the crux is comforting. The whole design just gives away the answer. Oh! Valley of winds, you beauty!