Life means moving on, no matter what. But does it really part from its root? Or it tries to get a new lease on what it has abandoned?
On my last trip to Ladakh, I was travelling up and down the hill and while crossing one village after another, all of a sudden, I noticed this deserted pack of houses which seemed to have been a beautiful hamlet sometimes. It was towards the afternoon, and the broken houses had a perfect back drop of somber sky. As I stopped the car and got down, I felt as if I was standing amidst history. The scattered stone houses only had the structures still standing. The debris was home to stray animals. But there I saw hints of green; life amongst the barren.
The rugged Himalaya stood still, watching the transformation of a lively village to a wreck. As I was roaming about the place, I met some passersby. At once I stopped them to enquire about the place and got to know that it was the ruins of a small village. The inmates here had abandoned the place and shifted to the next village due to scarcity of water. It was then hit by a natural calamity. All the people had moved to the village nearby. But they could not tear apart from their roots. Hence they are keen on coming back. However, they are not sure if they can return to their base but they are sure that on the first given chance, they would embrace their root.
Standing amidst the ruin I could hear the wind, whispering into my ears, live life to express, not impress.