Pigeons

This thanksgiving weekend my colleagues and I drove down to visit Philadelphia and Baltimore. I in particular was looking forward to this trip with a lot of enthusiasm, not only for the thrill of going to a place where I had never gone before, but also for getting away from the vicious cycle of monotony and claustrophobia which I have found myself in for the past few years.
One of our places that we intended to and did vist was the Baltimore aquarium. In a now disturbingly regular trend of absent mindedness, I ended up purchasing one less ticket than the number of people on the trip. I realised this in the middle of a delicious panini and had second thoughts about leaving it halfway to grab another ticket. But common sense finally prevailed and I dashed out; the tickets were sold out minutes after I redeemed my reputation with the ticket that balanced both sides of the equation.

I decided not to go back to my lunch. Partly because I was sure the Panini would be in the trash can by then and majorly because I needed some alone time to grab a cigarette, explore the place around and give another half-assed shot to planning the rest of my life (yeah it's still WIP).

Sitting on a bench waiting for the show to start and for my colleagues to come out of the eatery with chicken-wing breath, I was flooded with a range of contrasting emotions. There was an old man sitting on another bench asking passers-by to drop some change in his hat - he clearly didn't like what he was doing and to be honest, I thought that he would definitely take up a job instead if he could.
A not so well-dressed couple came in to buy tickets but decided not to go ahead because they found it expensive. They smiled at each other, held their hands tighter and walked away leaning against each other ever so slightly. True romance.
A father came in with his daugter only to be welcomed by a sold-out board. While the daughter looked expectantly at her father with a hint of a teardrop in her eyes, he explained to her that they would catch the show the next day. (I hope they did).
With so many faces of helplessness around, one can't help but wonder if man is destined to a life of unfulfilled desires. A life of stifling compulsions, of hats with change and sold-out boards. Some have eyes to immerse themselves into and hands to clasp, others just have a hat to put back on.
How does one live with this baggage? Replace it with cigarettes and alcohol like many of us do? Replace it with God? I'm quite sure that processed vegetables rolled into a rizla and fermented potatoes and sugarcanes are not the way to go, as much as I am sure that God does not like playing second fiddle.
I then had a distraction that I am now most thankful for. A young girl cried out to her mother in a note of unadulterated joy that only her age is capable of- 'Look Ma! Pigeons!'. Leaving my intensly futile train of thought begind, I walked into the aquarium with my colleagues (their breath a cruel mixture of onion soup, chicken wings, pizza and spearmint. Yuggh!).
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Halfway through the dolphin show I instinctively cried out in my mind 'Look, Dolphins!' A moment of disarming joy. At that very moment, I had the answer to my questions. I had found my pigeon. I hope to find one everyday. I hope to find one every moment.