This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 14; the fourteenth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.
The life around was changing its garb, donning on the fall colours in return for the summer palette. The wind was persistent in its own silent music as the tall trees swayed slightly as if dancing to the wind’s notes playing in their heads. The sun was a warm companion on my back as I walked on. And that sixth sense tingling somewhere, I could feel the air around me changing, with the slowly, imperceptibly but insistent losing warmth.
The new land was beautiful. Life, so easy. People warm. Everything so drastically different yet so much more beautiful in its distinction from what we had known all our lives.
We were in a land of promises kept, we gloated amongst ourselves. A land of opportunity, realizing dreams, success and money. A new land. Breaking away from the old, the used, the rotten into a new birth in a single life… We rejoiced, we preened in our shared prides, sense of accomplishment. We cheered, we patted one another and we smiled around. We are here. Yes, we had made it.
And the golden, magnificent dusk slowly gave way to the wondrously dark evening dotted with the sprinkling of stars in the clear, black night sky.
The wind was still playing its never-ending orchestra when we bid each other goodbye to return to our new places. Home, they say.
Congratulations with champagne. You could only see excitement and happiness still eloquent in our faces as we walked back, each in a different direction, shielded against the fast dropping temperature and the demanding, strong wind.
Years to be spend in the land of glory. Years away from our ugly, opportunistic, ungrateful land, miles away from the uncaring, cold people, seasons away from the hardships and tribulations and losses. Years from ever to hope of returning to all the left behind misery. As we all turned in to our beds that night, each thought that he was the only one who dripped unconscious, unstoppable tears into his pillow.
There was nothing, would never be, anything as beautiful, as enticing as my ugly land, my indifferent people. My real home.
P.S. There is nothing else I found that I could write about. I didn’t write this for BAT but the BAT topic did seem apt for it, in a way… and I do feel bad when I am not a part of BAT.