A Wanderer’s Tale

A Wanderer’s Tale

I was a wanderer all my life. As a child I used to wander away from school, running wild in open meadows for no reason, climbing mountains to catch the sun rise and decent,   going by the river to see the night reflections on calm waters, wandering away wherever whenever I could from people , don’t know why. But wanderers have no successful life they said and taught us. There was no documented story of any wandered who has earned great riches and had been successful in the race of life. Or may be no wanderer has chosen to tell their story of success to the world, as they knew the idea of their happiness this world couldn’t contemplate. I could never explain to any friend or my parents, my thirst to keep walking as far as I could go without any intention or planned destination. And I myself didn’t know why, but it made me feel happy to wander as that. They called me crazy, dumb and what not, but nothing affected my silliness.

I grew up to continue with my trend, being rebel, banishing traditions, refusing predictable routine. I wandered around from villages to towns, from deserts towards oceans, wandered as far as I could go. I made my living in many ways, sometimes just being a laborer, a guard keeper, but most times by selling common things of one town, uncommon and rare in other. I traveled in trains, in ships, on horses and camels. What materialistic wealth I gained was minimal, but knowledge I gained was worth that bargain. Knowledge of cultures, of food, of places, of skills, of seasons, of soil, of sea, of birds, of people was worth every penny which I had failed to earn. Strangers who heard my tale were astonished, they questioned how was it more fascinating to have a life without owning anything and just keep moving around. How satisfying it could be with no human bonding.

Materialistic gains never altered my interests, maybe I was a savage soul of some native human race. Human bonding, I had few one with my parents and friends with whom I spent my childhood, but my thirst to explore new places was far stronger than those attachments. Yes and then it was her. Her town which was famous for making brass bells, where I spent substantial time of my wandering life, until my ship longed to again set on sail. She was among the many girls who carved on those brass bells, her delicate hands crafted the most intrinsic designs. I was amazed by one such design and was curious to know who the creator was, that’s how I met her. I wanted to learn the skill, and started spending hours with her. Her kohl eyes, mischievous smile, her smartness slowly started engraving my heart. She was wise. She knew I was a wanderer, who couldn’t be tamed down with chains of  customs and rituals. She never asked for any promises, but instead she let her heart follow my wilderness. She understood me more than myself, I wanted to stay with her, and she didn’t want to leave the town. So I stayed for a while, until she realized I was no more me. As my brass bell designs turned obscure, she said it was time for me to leave. She loved me and I loved her, but we parted, may be that was the best ending we could have.

I made more money in different towns from the brass bells I made. And then I squandered it on wine, to lose my senses, so I could feel her sitting beside me. But the thirst for exploring places, undiscovered, kept me moving, helping me to forget the only pain which this journey had in me nailed. I learned more in my journey, new languages, and different techniques to make the same things, slowly people started treating me as a Sage. A Sage with knowledge, immense wisdom, and they believe I have sacrificed the clutches of desire to live such a carefree life.Today many wish to be me.and I don’t bother to change their belief , so let that be.

Now I am old and I wander not often , I just make brass bells and engrave words, images on it which I have learned from my retrospect.