Where Does This Train Take Me?

These days, I tend to think a lot about the purpose of my life in an oddly mystical and spiritual way. I think about finding what makes my soul resonate and sing, and nestle myself into that space. Stories about people who have dedicated their lives to their passion inspire me once again. Greta Thunberg inspires me for being so brave as to leave behind usual life conventions and live of her own choosing. As someone who has been writing for more than a decade and has always called it my passion, my first response to this question of purpose is to “write a book” and I add the word “finally” to it. Last night I was wondering what would I write about? Some days I think about working on a collection of essays. Poetry? I have all but put it aside for this phase of life. While writing seems to be my immediate choice, these days I feel there is something more I am meant to find, and that’s why the universe is nudging me towards this musing. 

When I see the realities of my surrounding closely, I am determined that well, this can’t be all, can it? This thought came to me last week when I was reminded of the night I called a cab in Seattle and a woman driver came to pick me. During the ride, a song came on the radio, the volume turned really low, and she started humming it. I joined in, and she turned up the volume, and then we were both singing to the song driving through the city, feeling free as a bird gliding through the night. I can still taste that feeling of joy, of shared magic as a person going through life. They say such feelings are fleeting, or perhaps belong to youth. But perhaps, that’s what my soul is calling after, and I am keen to pay heed to it.

Last week, when I was in my hotel room which was quiet as could be, I pulled aside the curtains to look at the metro going by outside. I stood there a few minutes and in absolute silence the metro and I watched each other, and like a child I wondered where this “train” could take me, to what ends of the earth, to what beauties that may lay out there? It would take me to Cubbon Park, I found out. Just like when the London Undergound took me to the Kew station where, in grounds as large as the palm of God, sprawled flowers, plants, and trees abounded by birds and butterflies. There is a magic in the wonders of the Earth, and I am certain that the universe is asking me to find the same magic in my life’s purpose. I stood there and thought about trains, an abundance of quiet, and following the feeling where it may take me.

There are practical problems, though, and the grist and mill of reality, which is so well-baked into our lives that it has taken the place reserved for whimsy. These practical problems might be that of discipline, day jobs, rising screen time due to day job and social media, and overall exhaustion from trying to keep oneself alive. I’m not making excuses, but over a period of time I have learnt to balance dreams with the oppression of society’s expectations on us. There are only so many hours in a day. I suppose one must start with shedding this need to factor in reality. They say delusion is helpful in cases where one wants to do the unthinkable, follow the not-so-beaten path as it were.

I’m not sure what not-so-beaten path I must follow, or what writing escapades I need to undertake, or what new endeavour I shall pursue. However, these days I am trying to seek answers to the calling I hear, and the tug of my own heart. There must be more to my life, than all this, and there must be things worth doing.