Sharvari Solanki

BBA General
Sem 3
WHAT TRAVEL MEANS TO ME
THE ART OF TRAVEL
I wake up to the same view every day. A floor to ceiling window that
exposes me to the view of tall buildings and a foggy morning. I am
accustomed to the soothing yet polluted air. As I slip onto a pair of sliders
and wander out of my house, I feel free. Travel for me is freedom. Letting
my feet amble along to its own beat and feel the slow rush of adrenaline
coursing through me. To watch the fading beauty of nature and think,
grovel, sing, cry, laugh, smile, grumble, mumble, bumble about things I
love. I feel unconfined.
I make my way to the college every day. Auto—Train—Bus. When the
dust settles on my face every morning and evening and makes me
disgruntled about the journey, I feel caged. Travel for me is being
imprisoned. It’s tedious—throngs of people walking past me, everyone on
their own journey to follow a path to earn their average paid salaries
while I travel to study to do the same in the next few years. I feel locked
up.
I take my weary body to bed every night. My mind rakes through the
memories of the day—the morning walk, the journey to and fro and the
conversations I made with people unlike me. I slip under the covers and
my eyes flutter close. I feel excited. Travel for me is fantasy. My heart
pumps with excitement knowing I’ll be going to different places tonight.
I’ll be dreaming about trivial things that I never care for or encounter
people that I can meet only in my fantasies. I’ll let my mind amble along
to it’s beat and take me places. To see the unexpected and think, grovel,
sing, cry, laugh, smile, grumble, mumble, bumble about things I love. I
will feel liberated.