The Nomad


I have been under the pressure of performing better in my academics. It is supposedly my first step to everything I want to achieve in my life. No, career is the word. First step to build a career. I am terribly ambitious. However, I lack competitiveness. Paradoxical, as it may seem. But it’s not. Simply putting it, my ambitiousness is shallow. Why should that be? Because I am, within, a Nomad. I am crazy about lush green clearing bordered by thick clusters of cypresses on mountain tops. I fantasize about abandoned, lonely medieval garrisons where you can stumble upon skulls of dead buffaloes. 
I have come across these amazing pieces of works recently. Before that, I was in a half-built cocoon, living in the misconception that my silk is the best. It’s not. It will never be. It’s going to take a long time. I let my mind wander off the road I chose for myself. Exactly an year ago, my face was buried in my books, telling myself how much it would mean if I become an officer in the Ministry of External Affairs. I planned every detail. 
It fell like a house of cards upon my drawing file, where I was trying to shape a nose. 
My Religion says that the plans I made for myself earlier were much more beneficial for the society. 
My Desire says that I can never keep anyone happy if I am disillusioned with life at the very first place. 
I make pilgrimages to both of these aspects within my mind. These journeys within me to find myself, to reconnect me with my core. 
What am I then, travelling to memories, making my way through confusing ridges of confusion, beholding the spectacular present unfolding in front of my eyes every day and riding my emotions every now and then on the roads of time? 
I am nothing. A jaded mind. Looking for solace
I am the Nomad, the one I have ever known best.


Bhavya K. 


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