She sets out onto the solid road, passing by the college kids roaming about chasing some purpose, some meaning. Not a huge town, she muses taking in the classic Indian small city surrounding her. She tries to overlook the scenario extending between the college gate and the world outside the hospital gates. For there, lying and flocking along the government hospital’s fortress is the not-so-privileged class waiting outside in the cold as their loved ones play the familiar battle between life and death inside. And so they wait, and then some more. But then some also wail. She cranks up the volume real high and tries to leap away to the metal resonating her eardrums.
She pretty much walks straight up for about a kilometre or so, squeezing through the vehicles and trying to avoid any crossings as far as possible. Beware of the cows, a warning her mind keeps reminding her of. Road crossings had always pumped her up with adrenaline. A little amount of fear drizzled with excitement and full alertness. A perfect coordination, a tango amongst the eyes, ears and limbs. Why don’t people notice how beautiful the act of each crossing is? How unique. Some more afraid, some too bold and some too ignorant. She could always tell a lot by the way one crossed a vehicle swarmed road.
She sees the sun reaching the horizon and pulls up the zip of her hoodie as a breeze gets caught up in her hair. It’s frustrating, how she felt all warm and fuzzy enchanted by the sun yet could feel the chill deep in her bones. That’s why she never liked sunsets. You lose yourself into it but in a way it never let’s you forget where you really are. It lets you float to the unknown realm but at the same time it keeps you anchored to reality.
Was there anywhere in particular she was going? Did it matter? The streets here spoke a different language, the winds chimed an unheard story. Amidst this crowd of rushing people and machines, ever so slowly she slips, slips away to find herself atop this tiny bridge with an unobstructed view, a place too mundane, too simple. It was supposed to be a place where others ceased to exist. How, she wondered when she could feel them brushing past her. She breathes in the smoke, the fumes. Was this supposed to pacify her? Solitude. Ah! Someone somewhere had found their place, but not her. She had to keep looking for something prettier.
Day 1
Take us through a written walk down your street and to your favourite place through the eyes of somebody else.
#30dayswritingchallenge
I’ve finally decided to show the finger to the ‘block’ I was facing and this seemed like a nice idea, but of course I had to cheat in some way. (Thanks to a weird friend for pushing me in a way to this, but the way. )
So I searched the net and out of the many amazing prompts available, I chose the 30 I felt would prove challenging enough to keep writing but not so challenging that I quit. Yeah, I’m a badass.
Here are the sites I’ve taken my prompts from as the internet is a scary place and I have no idea about copyrights. Also, in case if someone else is interested.
https://thoughtcatalog.com/heidi-priebe/2015/08/30-days-of-writing-prompts/
https://www.scribendi.com/advice/30_day_writing_challenge.en.html
Picture credits: Foram Sanariya
My ever weird friend with a quirky side. But you should sure as hell check her out, I mean her work for she’s an absolute cutie. *wink wink *
Walkthrough 