Window to the World

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 'There's a musty smell here', said my sister. I nodded in agreement. The paint was crumpled from place to place. The damp walls of that old building were the proof that sunlight hardly enters there except through a window on corridor that too only in evening. The whole place was surrounded by pines and monkeys.

Since, the hall was filled with people I decided to stand by the window. I walked through the hall pretending I'm on call.

I've always been fascinated by windows. No matter whatever the view is! Sunrays were kind enough to fall over my head. I peek outside the window, all I could see was trees, trees and trees.

I started to hum and few lines of Sara Teasdale's poem came to my mind-

"But why do the pines on mountain's crest

Call to me always, "Rest, rest"? "

I've a deep relationship with pines. They remind me of my transition from a teenager to an adult. How I fell in love, how I lose friends, how I experienced my first, no second failure, how I used to do things without giving second thought. These pines hold so many secrets of mine. God knows how many secrets pines have absorbed in themselves.

Once I move from the places I never turn to look back at them. I never want to. Even today if someone asks me to go and relive those nostalgic moments I'd say 'No'. I've always been like this. Yes, sometimes I go to the flashbacks for few moments but revisiting those places is not my thing. I know some might find me weird, selfish or whatever, It's none.... 

'What are you thinking for so long? Come, let's go outside.', said my sister. 'And hang out with monkeys!', I replied laughingly. 

I walked towards her. This time I decided to turn back to look at that beautiful window. I felt that window smiled at me and said, " Someday the window to my dreamland will open for me which will be mine and I'll get to stand there for forever." 

Location: Chail, Himachal Pradesh 173217, India

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Nidhi katoch
A silent observer in search of her TRUE HOME. If you like my writings, do comment and share... Views are extremely personal and are original writings of mine.

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