Occasionally, I go for a walk in a park. As I start walking on a cemented path, surrounded by lush greenery, some scenic scenes meet my eyes: the white storks on the green grass, the majestic peacock peeping at me from behind the bushes, and the trees filled with flowers.
The dew-filled grass glistening in the rays of the morning sun, the rise and fall of the land, and the vast expanse of greenery before my eyes, urge me to leave the cemented path I am walking on. I look at the soiled path through the wet grass. It looks straight from the Robert Frost poem, The road not taken . As my footsteps begin to tread on it, I remember the words of that poem, “I took the one less travelled by.”
As the agile squirrels continue to hop across my path and the chirpy birds continue to chatter away in the overhead trees, I continue my walk. After a while, when I pause to catch my breath, looking up at the sky, I spot a solitary white cloud floating in the blue sky. Seeing it, I remember the words of a Wordsworth poem, “I wandered lonely as a cloud.” I continue to wander on that lonely path. I look around. Not everyone in the park has a walk companion. There are more loners, which makes me realise that every man is an island. We must continue walking through life, even if we are alone. My poetic walk turns into a philosophical one.
As I walk on, my eyes fall on my footsteps. I look at how I am taking one step at a time. Maybe, this is the gist of life. Suddenly, the walk in the park seems like a walk through the journey of life. I look at the alternating phases of shadow and light on the pathway, signifying happiness and sadness in life. The intermittent darkness makes us value the light more.
The walk is long. I get tired, when my path goes uphill. It teaches me that sometimes the journey of life is uphill, while on other times, it is downhill, but it never stays uphill always. As I lose my way in the large park, I continue to walk the zigzag paths, not knowing where the destination is or how far it is. I think I am lost, but one path leads to the other, and soon the destination is in sight. I reflect that it is the same in life.
Before going, as I pause to witness an amusing scene of a squirrel scratching its armpit, I remember the words of a W. H. Davies poem, “What is this life if, full of care, we have no time to stand and stare.” Soon, it's time to go. And I am back on the cemented path, among the other walkers.
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