Roads hold out fascinating promises. They beckon us to the mystery that lies beyond the bend. Here are some of those roads that added charm to some of my best years. All the pictures are from South Delhi. I rode a two-wheeler on these roads for many years humming to myself John Denver’s famous lines: “Country roads, take me home / To the place I belong.” Not that I wanted to belong anywhere particularly. Not that I was philosophical enough to suffer from rootlessness.
Rootlessness is the natural destiny of anyone who is delighted by roads even if he is not a Diogenes. Roads promise to lead you to somewhere beyond the horizon that circumscribes you. That’s the charm of roads. Hope is what roads are composed of. Hope is an illusion insofar as it lies beyond the horizon. What is life without those beloved illusions? I love Mark Twain's dictum: "Don't part with your illusions. When they are gone you may still exist, but you have ceased to live."
A virtual ride through illusions!