On Cosmopolitanism and Mobility-Part I

Almost a week ago, I played truant from class, sick in my heart from
routine and ‘haziri’…the walk home was cold and not extraordinary. It
was when I was at the mailbox next to the steps of the house I live in,
one foot inward, that I heard the honking of the geese. I looked up,
glad to hear other sounds in the wintry remembered pall. They were
circling far above, crying and gathering, perhaps in preparation for a
journey, and more joined as I watched with blinking eyes. At least I
wanted to believe, rationalized, that they were gathering in
preparation for a journey. For, spring was halting here, and it was
time to come back, or depart.
And watching the birds, remembering a beloved childhood book about the
Ugly Duckling, I thought that mobility and migration is natural, yet we
humans make it so forced and stupendous a thing. How many cliches do we
have in the language?…That which has arrived will depart…this too
shall pass…how many?

And still we choose to be as trees, to put down roots without taking
into account how vulnerable we make ourselves to lightning strokes,
floods, earthquakes, all the disasters we know as natural. We would
believe ourselves charmed within the ‘lakshmanrekha’ of humanness,
forgetting that we transgress our humanity by forgetting it. We are
standing flames on earth, born of water, and dead unto light or
darkness. How much we must hate what we are to always wish to be
otherwise.


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