Life's Speed

Life has suddenly taken up a speed that I can only watch dazed. By just looking at the passing trees of days from my window, I feel too much out of sync nowadays. Is it because before all of this I was so happily strolling down the garden path and now I am sprinting behind the truck carrying sugarcanes, grasping the thin air? I have no problem in sprinting, but then again when I look around, I can clearly see that if I continue sprinting in shall lose sight of what had happened earlier much before I would want to, that I am not currently not at leisure to observe the things that speed by me, things that I would miss even if I blinked. But the thing that most scares me if the road ahead. There is an unsettling doubt in my mind that if this sprint continues at this very same pace, would I not stop completely much before that is expected from me, let alone that, stop before I reach the goals I have set for myself. I now have started looking for the niches along the way, in tunnel I run in, to stop and rest. But alas to my dismay, these niches are few and hard to come by. Even when I starting getting into one of these, dead tired, pausing to rest, the other runners along the same track either display dismay, ‘come on, there is no time for waiting’, or display a snigger that clearly says, ‘aha! He has paused! We can overtake him now!’ But, what see of feel is the fact that I run at a faster pace than them. But then again the fact of life makes a last ditch attempt to throw me off-track,’ What is fast for you may not be fast for you.’ This statement alone is enough for me to pause while writing this, smiling at the language that I use. Looking back at the path travelled, I can see there are two paths by which I could have come, that have originated from a single one long back. Both move almost parallel. I say almost since there are many loops and turns, bends that occur in each of them, almost equally, with the only difference being the fact that in one they appear at set intervals whereas in the other they occur at random. Circumventing the various puddles and the huge rocks, these two converge at the point that I stand on right now. But the thing that scares me is that I don’t remember by which path I came from. Was it the one with regular bends or where they were irregular? Or was it for me to decide? Or was it someone unknown who hid the alternative path from me? I’ll never know. Then there is something known as relative velocity. Simply put, the velocity that something seems to pass you by is the sum of your and the things speed. At this point of time my mind refuses to believe that the speed by which the things fly past me is by my fault alone, it’s just that the speed of things is complementary to my speed. I write this at a place that is somewhere I am supposed to move with a pack with a single person leading it. So is this my fault that I can find only this time to stay back and do something. Or is it that life is not a highway, rather a tread mill with its control in an unseen hand?