The waters glisten in pristine pride, sporting the occasional boat being rafted across the aquamarine surface. The bridges stand firm, their gigantic pillars looking like they are floating atop the glassy river, kissing their own hazy reflection. He looks longingly at the familiar sight, the one that existed in front of him all his growing years. This morning, the familiarity taunts him a little, questioning him where his awe was when he woke up to this sight, blind to it, in the rush of growing up.
This morning, the scenery taunts him too...those three bridges connecting the banks like threads of the regrets connecting him to his past. He lets himself tangle into those threads, wondering about all the bridges that were built, burnt and blurred in the daily grind of toil and turmoil. His bridges - that melted into the fog of life.
Finally, the mist in the horizon clears, gathering into his eyes.
"Better late than never" - rings a distinct voice from within as he struggles to bring the bridges into focus.
Featuring Godavari and the road cum rail Bridge - Pic Courtesy - Sudhakar Yeluri.
