Elsewhere

I like this word -- 'elsewhere'. It has an other-worldly ring to it, something illusory and impenetrable. Indeed, however far and wide we go, we never reach 'elsewhere'. It's simply unreachable -- it remains elsewhere, forever away from us.

Last weekend, on Saturday evening to be precise, while sitting at the foot the Gateway of India, the word came upon me fleetingly, almost imperceptibly. It was a perfect evening; before my eyes lay the vast Arabian Sea and behind me the fabled city of Bombay (Mumbai), teeming with life. I tried to absorb the evening with all my senses. But, without my knowing, I felt something amiss, as if something was not quite there, as if something had moved elsewhere.

I felt this way before, I knew. I felt this way when I stood before the majestic Taj Mahal. I felt this way when I saw the awesome snow-capped mountains of the Himalayas. I felt this way when I visited the haunting ruins of history in Delhi. I felt this way when I flew above the clouds for the first time (on an aeroplane, of course!).

It was the same feeling of elsewhere.

Whoever said that wishes were like wild horses, was right. They gallop away all the time, to elsewhere. Everytime I reach a place of my longing I encounter the same feeling -- not here, elsewhere.