Inner Journey, by Arunima Gupta, Kochi

Born and raised in Kolkata, West Bengal, and now residing in Kochi, Kerala, Arunima is free spirited, passionately artistic, deeply reflective, unconditionally caring, and completely in love with life.

March, 2018. I entered this space, which now I call my home, littered with cardboard cartons of every size. Some stocky ones were hurriedly stacked over the tall ones with such precision that it was almost impossible to look beyond a cardboard-smelling landscape of an unimaginative brown. Just when my heart began to sag a little, a sudden sliver of blue caught my eye as if desperately peeping in from within the browns, to get my attention.

I yelled out to my son, “Ron, here's our balcony.”

Ron gave me a familiar, I know what you will do this summer look. I smiled back at him. By that time, my thoughts had already taken wing with the clouds. 

Which plant will be at which corner? I wondered.

Earthen pots or ceramic?

A ladder or hanging pots ?

Bouganvillia or Frangipani?

... and the thoughts wandered, getting jammed in the traffic of my head. Some reached their destination. Some didn't.

I actually started working the very next day after I shifted my house. I look back upon those days in a dusty delirium. It was my final move back to Kochi. Something about this quaint port city lurched in my heart. I made a conscious choice to move back from a big city of urban dreams, to this rain-laden land of greens.

I have a particular love for this color. I carpeted the balcony in it, a tiny patch of green to usher in my mornings, with a cup of coffee in hand ... But mornings had a different story to tell.

Every morning, the beep of the microwave and the whoosh of the washing machine kept me scurrying between the kitchen and the utility room.

Every morning, the milk pot screamed for attention. 

The iron box commanded more. 

The honking school bus even more. My dance studio, teeming with a bunch of enthusiastic learners needed me the most.

Every morning, I dashed out the door balancing my paraphernalia on my arms, sheepishly managing to steal a glance at the tiny pinks and yellows that unfurled on the greens, unfailingly.

Every morning, my red coffee cup sat in its place. Unmoved. Silent. Resilient.

Days. Months. Two years clocked.

And then one day, the red coffee cup shook off its dust. The patch of green came alive. No chore could pull me out of my tiny paradise. Everything came to a still point. No beeps. No whooshes. No honks. No footsteps. No noise.

I could hear the bee sing to a pink bud in my tiny garden.

I could smell the dew.

I could see a tendril inching its way up the railing 

I could breathe in a whiff of peace. 

 When the world locked itself down, I unlocked my heart. When every journey, every road closed, my inner journey began.

 March, 2020. I wasn't sure what the future held for humanity and me, but with that large gulp of calm inside, I was ready.

_________________________

(This story was prepared for an “Imagine Another World” online storytelling workshop held November 11, 2020.)

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