The picket fence

 The picket fence.

    The other day, i was visiting a dear old friend for high tea. She lived in a mansion in a very exclusive gated community. Her meticulousness, attention to detail, the manicured garden, and almost everything in and around her house revealed a touch of affluence coupled with a highly evolved aesthetic sense. After a cup of tea and an hour of catching up with what common friends were doing with their lives, she took me on a tour of her house. It was indeed opulent, without looking vulgar or pompous. Her demeanor was also very reticent, and composed. She hadn't changed a bit. I was catching up with her after almost 25 years. Her smile, her very caring nature, her casually giving a warm hug, all had been spared from the ravages of time. As I settled into the living room, i was observing the artefacts, the decor, the ambience of her beautifully set up home. The picture frames on the wall revealed her perfect family. All looking very cheerful and, happy. Her husband,a very distinguished, man with that touch of aristocracy and her well brought up and handsome children added flavor to that sophistication. Her life, and all its components were as manicured and proper as the generous lush green lawn surrounded by the very articulately done up flower beds.  The sun was almost on the verge of dropping down from the horizon lending a golden hue of surreality to the landscape. She suggested that we go for a walk. I readily agreed and we were off into her garden. At the rear end of her garden was a picket fence with a small gate. She opened the gate and we both were off. In a few moments, we were on a beautiful trail that led deeper into the woods. The path was very scenic weaving it's way through a thicket of bushy undergrowth.. In the next ten minutes, we were in the middle of the woods from where her mansion was no longer visible. We then walked for about 45 minutes through a forest. It was really beautiful. The skies were lit up with spectral shades of crimson, orange and some colors that transcended nomenclature. It was as we were traversing this forest, that I noticed a slight change in her. She was looking much more relaxed, and the conversation opened up in the true sense. The lady of the mansion had stepped off the pedestal and now looked far more at ease. The manicured and cultivated streak gave way to the more natural and untouched version of life.The walk was indeed very nice. For a while, we walked in silence. There was no trace of her mansion for the entire 40 minutes. It was almost as if she didn't want to be reminded of her lavish home and abundantly opulent lifestyle. I let her be and didn't deem it necessary to break the silence. She seemed to be very calmed in these rustic environs. Her highly cultivated identity seemed to dissolve in the rustling leaves. The early spring colors with their elegant but understated, subtle  pink and white blossoms reflecting her self effacing personality.   Our walk was coming to an end, and we got closer to her house which soon came in full view. We got back into the manicured ambience that was really plush. The retinue of servants immediately at her beck and call. She got back to her role of the lady of the mansion. Crossing the picket fence one more time.

The picket fence indeed was her gateway to anonymity. When she crossed the fence, she was almost another person. 

As I was gearing up to say goodbye, I felt that we all have our own emotional picket fences, that we cross to enter a zone of anonymity. A zone from where  the mansion of ego vanishes and we foray into the woods of our subconscious to explore small trails leading to unknown, beautiful skies.A zone, where we can seek refuge from the urban insanities, the grind of  protocols and expectations and dissolve our identities to become one with nature.

Dr. Deepak Ranade.