Mahima Roselin Varghese
Have you ever gone for a long walk? A long leisurely walk, gallivanting through the forlorn path, a walk that solely focuses on walking than reaching a point, a journey that has no destination, a walk that gives you the freedom to move with the finesse of a caterpillar, a walk that allows you to take any random turns leading to nowhere, a walk that lets you walk into the intricacies of life. Walking is a mysterious and unspoken art, for it rejuvenates your mind. You get to make impassioned observations and introspect all the while your muscles are on the move.
People have been using their feet for many millennia and a multitude of diverse purposes. We all started with the first baby steps escorted by our parents to the talking-poking-walk with our friends or lovers’ hand-holding, shoulder-touching walk.
We had a long walk to freedom, and we keep walking into people or situations that we might cherish or regret, walks that bring us joy or shudder. But one thing is sure, we walk and keep walking until death does us part. Of all, the supreme kind of walk is one that comes with no baggage of time and space.
One of my all-time favourite writers, Charles Dickens, was a compulsive walker who would walk 20 miles a day! He even wrote an essay called ‘Night Walks’. And so has Virginia Wolf, narrating the sights and her imaginary invasion into the lives of strangers she comes across in ‘Street Haunting’. Another thinker who loved sauntering was none other than Thoreau, one among the transcendentalists. He considered it an art: the art of walking.
A short stroll along the beach or perambulating through the streets soothes your mind and relieves you from momentary stress. Aristotle; seems used to giving lectures to his disciples while walking around in his school. From Beethoven to Wordsworth, Steve Jobs, and Ruskin Bond, many just loved to stroll around.
During my college days, I roam around with my friends, ditching the class, hopping into thrift shops, walking into street cafes, enjoying the fresh air at the marine drive. In Calicut, I would take my motorcycle, park it at the entrance to the beach and plod through the sun-kissed sand either with pals or alone. It’s the liveliest beach I have seen; crowded, yet leaving a personal space; raucous, yet soothing; all merging with the cool breeze, the waves, and the stroll. Hiking through the mystic beauty of Wayanad’s tea estates is another compulsive, soul-satisfying experience. They say nature heals, and it’s true.
Once I got lost with a colleague-turned fellow wanderer somewhere near Al Thumama in Qatar. Our GPS wouldn’t cooperate either. It was not exactly a leisurely walk, and we were in search of a library in the desert-like city.
We found circumventing for hours in what looked like a maze of the uniform structure of houses and lanes before we finally made it back home. Again, we had a great walk together, only that we didn’t make it to the library.
The best thing about night walks in the Middle East is these beautiful shades of lights that light up the streets, adding to their royal stature. There is something romantic about night walks. The streets of Bali are alive at night with music and light out-flowing from the street cafes and the lights shredding from those glinting monuments. If safety weren’t a concern, I would be gone the whole night in every street I have been to. Trekking through the serene mountain villages like Kasol or Tosh at the bedrocks of Himalayas or squeezing through the crammed and crude streets like Chandni Chowk with all its spices of life; they are all walks to remember.
With the pandemic looming over our lives, we are stuck, our walks confined. One cannot afford to take such long leisurely walks anymore. We have nothing to do but patiently wait for that time to return when you can step out. So then, take a walk, a rather long one, one that transcends time and direction, for we never know what we shall walk into.
