I used to, during ,my early college years, several times, visit the seashore around Marine lines, In Mumbai, (which I am sure many of us did) and sit there for hours, before boarding the train back.
It was a different phase of life and time period for me and it was the song of the sea breeze which soothed the storming mind. Sitting there on the promenade, a very different life existed on either side – one side (behind and where I was) was noisy with vehicles, vendors, beggars and budding love birds. But that was reality or rather the unavoidable practicality (where we all sat).
The sea envisioned a very different outlook towards life and reality. Filled with life, shallow at the shore (hence approachable) and active with waves – thereby seeming quiet playful. Yet opposite, as one ventured further inside – farer from the shores; undoubtedly enormous, yet calm, deeper and still, far deep inside.
Even that ”stillness” was momentary and had its own version to tell. As much as it seemed calmer at the surface, it had a life, budding in its own cycle of churning, through its own life stages, only visible to the ones who had the foresight.
Yet, the sea remained the same, playful at shores, still at the surface (as one would go further) yet churning what it had to, in its own depths, wilfully completing the phase of life.
I once met a person who reminded me of this sea. Convivial, pensive, with a zeal towards literature of life – which portrayed life in its own arena. It reminded me of the time, I used to sit by the sea, enjoy the breeze, acknowledge the life on this side where I was and recognize the other which was in front. Congenial and charming, but something beyond that was the true entity of this person, which seemed composed, yet with every act in solace, it had its own life which revealed the other wonderful facets of life.
This interaction was brief; the journey was to be traversed, now, I don’t go back to the sea, life at this end must have found its peace or has drifted far away, only to memoir this piece.