Life on a Treadmill

Life on a treadmill - this analogy was much derived watching legs and feet pounding to a rhythmic beat on a treadmill at my gym. Sweat dripping with earphones muffling all sounds of reality - leaving the listener lost in his or her abyss of self-peace pursuit.

Routine life and monotony besets all, it seems. Such is life- in the corporate world, where running too seems a race against time and not with time

Zooming back to the gym, I see both sexes in love with metal and machines. The natural has no scope of life and form as the structure remains shaped by the arches and lines. The shape too seems constant- slim and curvy or bulging with curious cuts.

Standardization of mind, self and body thus sets as an alignment that maligns the truth that centers all cores.

Appetite and share of mouth must follow a linear course and diverging away from the centrifugal point leaves one harassed and focus diluted. There is no scope of course correction , for that must again result in loss of time.

Bliss, peace and metal joy remains thus monetized. Pace of life must beat one's space - the idea by itself a life's dictum.

In fact, the more the world gears towards equality, the more papyrous the concept seems. Time and distance remain at unequal poles where the individual is pit as a challenge at the center.

Maybe I'm thinking all this, in a soul searching mode, after my recent trip to the hills. The greenery, slow motion life, heedless to any deadlines but just to the rhythm of one's own heartbeat - seemed magical and aspirational.

There was a sensual seduction in the air, that calmed minds and sensitized nerves to the many sounds of nature.

Colors, all at once, seemed bright and seemed to have a life of their own. The wind seemed a life-giver while lazy clouds floated about as orbs of hope where dreams may rest unhassled.

Food seemed aplenty as did people's smiles. There a more cemented spirit bound in collectivity where individuality had no scope of survival.

The scenic spots could only inspire the creative- while the slopes seemed painted by an ethereal power. It was a place to make one believe- make an atheist fall in love with the power of faith.

Mesmerized, we'd stood- strangely awed, subdued and powerless at the hands of oblivion. The clock had faded away - no herald for the known anymore.

Life suddenly seemed beautiful, serenaded by its own quirky simplicity.

Maybe I'd felt my cynicism thawing too- as the surreptitious tentacles of serendipity made me place a modicum of trust on the over-rated words of love and a life beyond.

It was as if the whole place was streaked by the conjurer's paint brush- to play with your mind- make your darkest dreams come alive, only to be hued by sunshine. Nothing seemed impossible- as the time stood still.

Standing atop the hills, breathing in purity,I could only envision enriched prosperity - not marred or tarred with commodification of wants.

As I let my eyes feast on the treat on every horizon. the route to heaven / haven seemed closer and more real than possible.

The sense of a lag- a giving up of the competitive streak- seemed suddenly a relief. All over the leit motif of peace and the white flag could shine bright as slowly it let me fade away my blacks.

Idyllic for an idealist like me, the crude way of life could finally rest the realist in me,emphasizing on the urge to forgo boundaries and dream of everything that I had shunned.

Music in the air with the natural beats of waterfall, footsteps, breathless climbs, bleats and bird songs filled my aura as it too sang its own queer song of solitary joy.

The final moments suddenly dawned the slow breakage of this gilded cage- where happy I'd lain- full of self-contentment. In my mind, the comparison map of the very commercial cemented Gurgaon with the hills loomed large, making me wish for a miracle to conspire and me to stay back forever, lost in the arms of love.

Maybe this place could soften me while the city life can only serve to sell you to servitude. The artificiality of concrete could only draw a restless sigh of benign dislike - where we would have to adhere to the norms that city culture could dictate.

I thought deep about glasses that adorned the buildings in the city jungle- pale, fastidious that deflected sunlight - while mirrors here could only reflect spirit, life, love and harmony.

Driving back to the morgue that housed the jail house of money and power, I suddenly felt quite cut away - distant as the main purpose of life seemed out of focus.

I don't really know whether escape from commercial city life to such magical places can co-create the value in a myth or that one should actively pursue a route to life than pursuit of happiness through a meaningless livelihood ..