WANDERINGS OF A NOMAD

We all have doodled sometime or other at the back of our notebooks, on sheets of paper, sitting somewhere trying to escape the perceived confines of time. We are trying to lose ourselves in the wide grasslands of our imagination where any landscape might spring up anywhere, anytime. Better still maybe we are trying to enter uncharted territories and be without fear. To me a doodle is a restricted expression of day dreams. But what does it tell us about the creator of the doodle, and why do most of us try to cover it up, no sooner have we created it. Snuck up, hidden amongst the last pages I lie For space, with secret loves and to do lists I vie Subconscious ruminations of a tired, bored mind Meditative peace and silence is what they hope to find I could be squiggly, sharp, or without a defined shape My naked existence with words and line you often drape Why would you create me in the first place? If later you would try and blend my birth trace Surprised or ev

Cold sweat broke on my forehead. The time was less than an hour away, and the hands of clock refused to let up on their internal perpetual race with each other. I did not know what to do, my head started to swirl I felt high, dizzy and for one of the few times I could actually feel the earth rotating. Funny how life can show you what science has always told you. My hands were trembling and my hollow gaze followed the clocks with hands still racing. 50 minutes:  That is all I had before I turned thirty. How did this happen, who got me here, and more importantly when? I must have been kidnapped and put in a time free zone because I certainly did not age but everyone around me seemed to be aging. Why then did I not remember being kidnapped? Thirty would be three decades and that was a long time. In today’s fast paced world of T20 cricket, thirty is the new century. I shuddered at the blasphemous thought. What would go first my hair, health or lifestyle? Would I lose my friends, wou