Nothing
can equal the warmth of human companionship. None of the numerous devices that
reflect the achievements of modern technology are capable of producing the same
effect as the familiar sight or sound of a friend or family. Not even the
so-called 'social networks', which are a feeble attempt to simulate the essence
of human relationships within the unrealistic bounds of an artificial computer
screen. But then, something is precious only when it is irreplaceable. If the
presence of a companion could be exchanged for a playstation or a facebook chat
box, he/she would lose his/her true worth.
But as is
often the case, we value something most when we are devoid of it; when we face
a nagging dearth of it that constantly reminds us of its magnanimous influence
in our lives. It is at times when we are alone, when we are surrounded by a
swarm of strangers and a fleet of cranky, noisy, thoughtless machines, that we
realize the futility of all artificial forms of entertainment and the indispensable
bonhomie of a coterie. It is then that we look to fulfill the void left by the
absence of a familiar face. When we find nobody to occupy that void, we turn to
our own inner selves - our true interests, our hobbies, to give us company. We
create pastimes that we can call on any time we want to. Gradually, they come
to define us, and become an integral part of our identity.
Each one
of us has his/her own way of nurturing this inseparable part of the self that
manifests as a hobby or a special interest. In my case, I write. It is one of those rare talents that I enjoy engaging in.
It saves me from boredom, for I take the refuge of words from my pen when
threatened by monotony or loneliness. It is an eternal friend to whom I can
confess feelings otherwise forbidden to be spoken of to anybody else, who helps
alleviate the weight of a hard-kept secret. It breathes life to thoughts and
endows me with a purpose, even though a brief one. It is a safe haven I can
always turn to for shelter, an abode impervious to the heat of the burning sun
or the numbing chill of a snowy winter.
Perhaps
its only other equal is a long walk alone in the midst of nature’s serene
endowments on a summer midnight, when the air is cool and the environs quiet.
The shimmering stars overhead become my navigators - little patches of light in
the dark sky that stay with me no matter where I go. The pristine stellar light
from up above the heavens gives me solace and strength when I’m down and alone.
It helps compose and gather my thoughts, and in the absence of all forms of
sound other than the rustle of leaves in the woods or the song of waves in a
flowing river, helps me find answers to cope with the challenges that confront
my life every day. It reminds me that I live in a beautiful world, and that I
can forget about anything else atleast for a tiny while.
These little
pastimes, seemingly unproductive activities that apparently make no addition to
intellectual “value”, have come to my rescue whenever I have heeded them, as
they have today. And I am certain they will always be at my side, giving me
company and wisdom and strength for all my life.
Today, I
raise a toast.
To you,
dear hobby !
