A Little Detour from the Chaos

There was chaos in the mind, a little dilemma in the department, and by the time we felt like the day had finally ended, we realised—rather unfortunately—that it had only just begun.

Because, somewhere in the middle of all that mental noise, a very sudden thought arrived:

“Let’s go to a park.”

No planning. No discussion. No sensible reasoning.

I just let Kavya ( my colleague) know.

Not asked.

Informed.

We were going.

Knowing my general tendency to come up with these wonderfully questionable ideas and craziness , she agreed—with what I assume was a generous benefit of doubt.

We left our bags and other belongings with the college security, abandoned all traces of academic responsibility for a while, and somehow ended up in a park near the college whose name, I have once again, completely forgotten.

Apparently, names are optional when memories are good.

As a child, there was a lesson called The Road Not Taken.

Kavya, in her own quiet way, is exactly the sort of person who would take that road.

Not necessarily every time.

But definitely by nature in nature.

Give her two paths, and there is a very good chance she will look at the one nobody is taking and say, “Let’s see where that goes.”

And somehow, that is exactly what happened.

The park was not one of those polished, perfectly manicured places with neatly labelled plants and suspiciously clean pathways.

It was raw.

A little wild.

Green in all directions, with random trees and plants growing as though nobody had sent them a maintenance schedule.

There were walking trails running through it, connecting one little path to another, making a kind of maze—not the confusing sort, just the sort that quietly invites you to keep walking.

There was a rare, almost luxurious breeze brushing against our faces.

A few rocks placed here and there.

Birds making their presence known.

Tiny insects doing whatever tiny insects do.

And otherwise…

silence.

Real silence.

Not the silence of an empty room, but the kind that is full of sounds you usually don't notice.

We found a rock and sat there for a while.

And then something shifted.

Somewhere between one pathway and the next, Kavya's inner child decided to clock back in.

She started exploring.

One lane.

Then another.

Then another one that clearly looked like the sort of path people don't usually bother taking.

And of course, she took it.

I followed.

Because apparently, this particular  day , common sense had taken leave.

Soon we were just wandering around—looking at the sky, looking at the trees, listening to birds, listening to the occasional rustling of leaves and the tiny sounds of insects.

And it struck me how rarely we actually hear any of this in normal life.

We are so used to traffic, phones, conversations, notifications, deadlines, people asking questions, people answering questions, and our own minds running five parallel tabs at once…

She strictly followed this , I being in my zone checking the phone now and then.

When we sat,that silence feels almost unfamiliar.

Maybe that was the real reason we needed the park.

We weren't really looking for a place.

We were looking for a pause.

And slowly, path by path, wander by wander, she seemed to feel lighter.

You could almost see her mind loosening its grip for the day.

Of course, because this is us, there had to be at least one completely questionable decision involved.

At some point, we casually left the scooty keys and the phone on a random rock and wandered off to explore a little more.

Absolutely reasonable behaviour.

Very responsible adults.

Nothing to see here.

And then came my personal highlight of the evening.

A pig.

A pig.

An animal I do not particularly like.

At all.

And yet somehow, I became disproportionately excited about seeing one.

Life has a strange sense of humour.

So, no, it wasn't a perfectly maintained park.

It wasn't fancy.

It wasn't impressive in the conventional sense.

But maybe that was precisely why it worked.

It was unfinished.

Unpolished.

A little forgotten.

And somehow, that made it feel more honest.

For a couple of hours, we escaped the chaos without actually going very far.

No grand plans.

No elaborate escape.

Just two people, some random pathways, a little breeze, too much curiosity, one questionable rock-related parking spot for our belongings, and a pig I will apparently never stop talking about.

Sometimes, when you say you are “feeling under the weather,” maybe what you really need is to step out from under it for a while.

And walk.

Preferably on the road nobody is taking.