A Walk in the Clouds

Today as I fly from Bombay to Bangalore on a cold and beautiful morning, I cannot but marvel at the beautiful scenes of God’s glory that Nature throws at us with alarming frequency.

Have you ever witnessed the sight of a giant plane cutting through swathes of white fluffy clouds and all that you can see around you is the blue sky sprinkled with a smattering of clouds all over it – white clouds, dark clouds like a mosaic of different patterns and forms floating away in quiet splendour. The beautiful formation of clouds hanging low over gloomy man-made structures, the quiet elegance of the wide expanse of calm water that we call the Sea and the first rays of the smiling confident Sun breaking through the dark shadows of a dark night imparting a beautiful crimson edge to the dark angry clouds all make me feel euphoric and desirous of saying a quiet prayer to the God that created them.

For a moment, I forget all my disappointments, all my frustrations and the hurt and animosity my heart bears for him and for a moment my heart my heart is filled with deep gratitude for being alive, for being able to see hope winning over despair…. of the dream of a new tomorrow. For a moment I am back in my youthful days, when I believed in the intrinsic good that lies in every man. For a moment, my heart falls in love with the dream they called life…. For a moment it wants to believe in Life.

It’s as if I am back in my childhood and reliving the days of my childhood when Grandmother used to regale me with stories of a distant land in the clouds.

A land where Angels and Fairies lived, where Dreams are made and all Desires of the Heart are fulfilled, where there is no misery; there is no pain and there is no hurt. My heart ached for that land and often I would go to sleep thinking of that Promised Land. After my grandmother’s death, I looked at those clouds with deep sorrow and I could often feel her looking at me with her deep and loving eyes and often my eyes would water at my helplessness and I would shed quiet tears of frustration.

Today as I fly and often when I fly, I am reminded of the hopes of that young child who desperately wanted to meet his grandmother and tell her stories of its exploits. He wants to show her the first award he won, the first rank he secured, the perfect score he made, the tough success he achieved and then sadly it dawns on him that nobody exists who would listen to him and his success…. that his success is incomplete, that he has won the battles but lost the war.. that he’s lonely in a crowd of people.

And then suddenly as a painful shaft of direct light pierces my heart, I realize that the land of fairies does not exist, that these clouds harbour nothing but memories of a dream gone wrong… that below these clouds exist the same old structures that have taken away from me all I loved the most and desired the most.

Memories, even if cherished, when remembered often give a deep sense of hurt and pain.