the sadness nurturer...

Cycling past the suburbs of Durgapur, mostly during the nights, has currently been the new passion. Trekking is costly, and is being heavy on my pockets since I have left job. Secondly, the last two trips, one to north Sikkim and the other to Corbett, has more been of a tour than trek. And worse, I am no longer being that hard inclined to join such long outings; wherever I be, I keep on constantly, and dearly, missing someone. Hence, cycling.

Durgapur has been a planned township, and ouside boundaries, it is just farms and barren lands. Distinct similarity with Pune, a city in Sahyadri, remarkable for it's uninhabited plateaus, streams and lakes beyond the limits. A 15 minute ride from NIT would take me to the bounding roads of Durgapur, beyond which the horizon pleases one's sight. There are hardly street lights, the few residences nearby are probably without power, and a silent moonlit picturesque nature engulfs my mind with an uncanny pleasure. Thinking aloud, how would it be to get a small house, and a large garden, in such suburbs, provided it still remains grossly disconnected, entertained by the single infrequent bus from station probaly once in an hour. Communication is not leading to progress, but destruction, that is what I feel.

Thought of penning this post past midnight, while thinking where my mind is leading me. I am becoming more and more socially introvert, indifferent to common necessities. The resident emptiness is my pleasure, that is what someone feels about me. Might be. Presence of someone can be a healer, otherwise it might be high time to pay a visit to a psychiatrist.