Whenever I fly I wonder if I am ready for death. I'm not quite sure why, perhaps it is when the prospect seems most real. Suspended in air as if by a thin wire, held up by two wings which seem so utterly minuscule against the vastness of the sky.
En route to Delhi from Kolkata the sky was crisp; clouds sometimes dotted, sometimes sheathed the space below. I looked north out my window, and after second-guessing my eyes for a few moments, I could discern the Himalayas in the distant horizon. Soon after i drew my hazy conclusion, it became unmistakable. There they stood, with streaks of snow and jagged rock, ages away yet impassive still. Only they had the majesty to tower above all life, to cast shadows upon clouds.
"I must apologise for the intrusion," I should say. "No man should have the audacity to consider himself above thee, superior to the power of nature."
1 comment:
i like the ambiguity of your title, and the way you feel about nature is beautiful
Post a Comment