Ekla cholo re

Its snowing in Columbus, its white outside, just like what I had seen all these years in movies, white and pretty like a dream. In fact its better (I am sure opinions would defer after three months of snow :P)!

So I sit here trying to finish my readings for my classes, drinking my Nth cup of coffee and listen to Tagore amongst other things. I think of moments that match to the legend's words (he has a song for every emotion) and the "Jodi tor daak shune keyu na asshe, tobe ekla cholo re" booms out. This is when I am reminded of a tale that very few know, but one of my life's alpha moments!
It was in 2008, on a trip to Berlin with some friends. I do not know how to ride a bicycle (bike for Berliners), and Berlin is full of them. Our hosts had organised a Bike tour, to explore the charming city. So everyone sets off, and since I cant join them, I decide to set off alone. Colleagues ask me if I am okay with it, I lie saying I would be fine, cursing myself deep down of being a suck ass in this field of human endeavour.

Its a bright sunny day with a slight cold breeze. Winter is slowly setting in, but its still comfortable to walk. All I have for the day is a map of the city, the bus and tram and tube (S Bahn) routes. I take a bus with no specific aim in mind, and yes after fifteen stops, I get off. I find myself in a residential area with children playing in a park. The date continues and it doesn't disappoint. The Berlin flea market comes next ( I am still walking aimlessly), followed by a middle school, followed by a residential complex which seems upmarket as there are flashy cars around. I cant follow a thing on whats written along the shops (its all in German), but can some what make out whats being sold. I walk for another hour, I am lost. I have no idea where I am. Am I scared? Far from it, I am liberated.

There are no expectations, no aims, no one to answer to except my own self, just doing something and enjoying it. When was the last time that happened? I cant remember. I was free. We are scared, to walk alone, to seek the path less travelled. But now I cherish that day, in a city where no one knew me, in a country where language was alien, where I was wanderer in every sense. The joy of it, the thrill of it, my craziness of venturing alone into an old abondoned garage before I knew what it was (I am "functionally illeterate" in Bernard Schlink's words), my clumsiness in finding a bus back to the hostel, my efficiency in tracing my way back way before people got alarmed. I perhaps have at the most five pictures of that day (people who know me, will be shocked, I usually take five dozens). But I dont need documentation, the memory shall never fade, the next experience, if ever, will never be the same, even if I do manage to trace back my ways.

For me, it was, it will always be, a walk to remember.