Song of a story

In the head it was story of a song. While transcribing from the head to screen, it turned out as song of a story. Then, it sounded appropriate this way. So there!  Bob Seger’s Against the Wind. Every line feels as though bits of personal story. Older now… still running against the wind. Heck! It even feels like yesterday…

The intercity express to Kandy made a slow progress up the hill. A wheezing engine heaved with the six coaches as it made way through the rail tracks through what was once a dense jungle of the hill country. Michael Ondaatje was born here. He returned in his mid-thirties to find his roots. This thing about belonging to a place, to find one’s origins… how insufferable! This country holds special. The tear drop of an island feels so much comfortable right from the first step off the plane. It was the same several years back. It is similar this time too. Perhaps, I was unconsciously looking for the past connect. A sort of origins, this could be too. Origin of a part of life when one was here, experiencing the world. Or may be all this is just an overthink, helped by the bobbing coaches and aircon. 

At six, with the softening silhouettes of the hills outside Peradinya, we roll into Kandy. First few steps and I had already entered a time which is no more. There was a young man once, who headed straight into the town digging old stories and places. Then there is this who returns. Salt and pepper hair, the first touches that time makes on a man, letting him know of advancing age. Measured gait, tempered and weathered in head and heart. Unlike earlier, he knows where to go. He has plenty to pay for all the services. And using all of it, he retires for the day preferring to read in and be by his parents, than cruise the town discovering people and places. Later, Against the Wind is put on loop, and this entry is filed. 

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