Few days back, due to an unexpected situation I ended up visiting a monument in my city. The monument looked like a withered person, trying to hold its pieces together. There is something intriguing about old or ancient places. Every time I visit an ancient place, I notice an inexplicable stillness there. As if time freezes there like a picture.
It is highly probable that anybody visiting a monument have these questions bugging him/her – How did the people lived here at that time?
Then, standing at one corner you try to paint a vivid picture in your head. Imagining people with vague faces, living in that monument. It looks like a movie you want to enjoy from a distance without any disturbance. This idea of an untouched past seems satisfying to you. It’s a story with an ending you imagined. Sometimes illusion is better than reality. Sometimes not knowing is better.
“Dreams, memories, the sacred–they are all alike in that they are beyond our grasp. Once we are even marginally separated from what we can touch, the object is sanctified; it acquires the beauty of the unattainable, the quality of the miraculous. Everything, really, has this quality of sacredness, but we can desecrate it at a touch. How strange man is! His touch defiles and yet he contains the source of miracles.“
–Yukio Mishima, Spring Snow
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