Monday, February 21, 2005

Of mountains and molehills

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“Life sucks”, I said to myself one day when I couldn’t find my keys. Why wouldn’t certain people not let the keys be where they are ? So what if I find some place on an empty floor the best place for the keys rather than the key hanger. At least, they are always conspicuous on the floor rather than the key hanger with at least 3 sets looking very similar. “Everyday, its sucks at about this time”, I muttered. “It’s a set of keys, it’s not the end of the world”,dad yelled back.
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In a world that’s used to making mountains out of molehills, I stand out. I refuse to accept the existence of molehills. Mine’s made of mountains, larger mountains and an irritating intuition that there isn’t anything called a largest mountain. If there is, it’s because I am myopic and cannot see beyond a certain point. The question though, is whether they can all be scaled. When in doubt, I wonder if those that have been climbed are the ones that are slightly larger than hills and just fall short of being a mountain. Standing constantly at the foot of a maze of mountains, walking always beside the foot of these mountains, each of them being taller than the next gives you a feeling of being sucked all the time. The clouds seem the same size, the sun continues to furrow its brow, concentrating on dehydrating you, mercilessly towering over you. I walk feeling further away from the clouds that seem so cool, from the birds that aren’t stopped by the mountains, from trees that seem to be able to hold their own on rocky terrain, and I alone am sucked down and stuck on the ground.

I must learn to climb, I tell myself. I look back and see a few of them that I’ve already climbed and I am forced to wonder if I did actually only have to hop over them. Then I look ahead and see that what’s in front of me cannot be hopped over. Gingerly I lay one foot on the mountain finding refuge in the thought that if I fall, the hurt and the pain will be insignificant. Then I lay another foot, knowing that this time I musn’t fall. The way up seems less dangerous than a fall down. Few steps later, the sun continues to be relentless. I look up daringly, refusing to squint, all the time wishing that the cloud will move over and offer me shelter, or that a tree will bend over and give me its shade. If blinding light is any comfort at that time, it is only because I know the night will be scarier. I inch upwards, cursing myself for being foolishly brave, and then scolding myself for being the coward , wanting every force in nature to help me.

I look around and see that everything around me isn’t making an effort. The ants move up effortlessly. The eagles constantly soar down not paying much thought to the fact that every sweep downwards will mean a tough flight upwards. The mountains stand there oblivious to the discomfort that they’re causing. Everything else is oblivious to the discomfort that they constantly have to bear. I alone, seem to think that everything there was there with the sole purpose of making my journey harder and my final destination a blur. I alone seem to think that even when I reach the peak, it’ll be everything I can do just to stay there.

Then I find a rock in the shade below a tree, that I admit must be a freak accident of nature, that I would be a fool not to take advantage of. As I sit on it, a wind blows and the trees part to reveal a stream. I wonder if it’s a mirage, but while my eyes can deceive my ears do not. I hear a noise that will eventually be understood as a melody of sorts. I walk towards and bend down and drink the water. I look forward and see the sun setting between two mountains and the glimpse of the stars hiding shyly behind the clouds.

I cannot see my way any longer but I can hear my beckoning. I can hear the gushing of the stream that will lead me to the peak, where I’ll be in time for a new dawn and a new day- a day when the sun will treat me like he treats everyone else, a day when eagles dip down not because they are conceding defeat, but so that they may fly higher. As I sit there, I will make molehills out of mountains, looking straight ahead where I can, and wondering what lies beyond when another mountain stands ready to be scaled.

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“Ah ! Found it” I yelled with inappropriate excitement. “Looks like today won’t be a bad day after all”
As I start my scooter, my mother asks me “ are your brakes working ?”
“Not yet mom, but thanks to the potholes and illegal speedbreakers, I don’t miss them”
In the distance I saw a speedbreaker. “No one’s going to get hurt”, I declared optimistically. At least, not on this bright sunny day.

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12 comments:

Fizo said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Fizo said...

And you say you are just ** years old? WOW! This was such a wondrous read..you write too well for your age[and any age for that matter] and go around giving me a complex...!! I still remember the equally well-written dining-table blog and even before I get over that you come up with this!! Amazing! Superb....I think you are gonna go places...I hope you never take a break from writing...ever..there is only one way for you to go...all the way to the top of the highest peak!

Saranya Kishore said...

Anaz,
Such depth of thoughts!
Awesome!
>>Everything else is oblivious to the discomfort that they constantly have to bear. I alone, seem to think that everything there was there with the sole purpose of making my journey harder and my final destination a blur.

I can very well relate to THIS! :)
Loved it to the core!!

buckwaasur said...

nice one anaz...full of metaphors as usual...:-))

FunnyCide said...

hey anaz,
nice one as usual. but seriously, what would life be without the occasional mountain.. the landscape would be too boring, wouldnt it? we need the mountains to add to the backdrop, even though we might not have any intention of hiking them sometimes.. just to give us the perspective.. so what if it is just a molehill to someone else...

and who knows that better than us chicagoans :) cos we literally make mountains of molehills.. esp in the skiing time.. why, just recently I got tricked by this one skiing resort.. people were flocking in numbers to this so-called resort.. which is nothing but a mound of snow a few feet off of the ground.. but in a place that is as flat as a pancake, a few feet of the ground is of course a mountain!! :))

cheti said...

anaz

grown down girl !!!! (opposite of grow up) Sheesh !!! you are in such a hurry ! relax !

But keep writing as well !

Silent Melody said...

"Mine’s made of mountains, larger mountains and an irritating intuition that there isn’t anything called a largest mountain. "

---Feel the same at times..Very Nice blog..Very profound..

Anaztazia said...

hey guys,

Fizo,
Thanks a ton for those compliments,
highest peak eh ? well... with you there to keep me company, I'm sure :)

Saranya,
Glad you could relate to it.Glad i'm not the only one then. Let's get climbing then :)

Buck,
Thanks :)

Funny,
lol abt the ski resort's tactic...
perspective's good.. not complaining. But struggling to find a via media between climbing all the way to the top ( its a great view from there), and staying at the bottom.

Cheti,
Ha ha... i'll try ... i promise :)

SM,
Hey hey... glad you like it.Feel the same? Maybe we're onto something then ?

Anaz

SeaSwallowMe said...

aah, anaz is back, blithely-metaphor-laden, as always :))

... some calisthenics in tune with yours .... the air at the top - a little rarefied, perhaps ? :)

SeaSwallowMe said...

.. and chica, the thought of a ski resort in the midwest has me going ROTFL (the only thing funnier would be thoughts of a ski resort in madras) :)))

Anonymous said...

hey i love ur articles. u r the best blogger.

Reshmi said...

absolutely lovely anaz!!
yep breaking them down into small manageable molehills works very well :-D