Cycology.

Cycology – detoxifying and meditative ride today. Loved it :  the really cold breeze, then the sun warming me up, and then the trees offering shade – simple yet profound joys. Wishing everyone more of these abundant and clean gifts in the coming year.

Light and space

Sunlight tumbling down an open sky – the effect on us is nothing short of magical, as experienced in these cold, dark days of winter and Covid…

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“As long as it takes…”

“How long are you going to be staying here?”

“As long as it takes…” came the answer.

The question was posed to a gentleman sitting at the adjoining table in the cafe, who seemed to be seeking answers, as many before him have sought, in the middle of nature. This time around, the setting of this conversation was in Gangotri.

But I have jumped forward many a moments – Let me start at the beginning. This is going to be a d-e-t-a-i-l-e-d post, because I want to relive everything myself.

~~~

“Bhai-saahab, bus kahaan se leni hai?” asked I, as I stood opposite the landmark metro station at Seelampur. Before I could ask for more details, in the typical rush of the answers given at tour operator offices, came the reply – “wahaan par ek flyover hai, jiske paas ek bada sa patthar hai – wahin ruk jaaiyega, bus aa jaayegi”…and cut. (“At the base of the flyover is a big boulder, wait there, the bus will come”). After the difficulty in being able to listen to him, there was the difficulty in believing him – how can a boulder be a landmark, but I wasn’t the only one who had that doubt – there were others praying near Sacred Rock too.

Having time to kill, and an instinct of self-preservation, particularly my respiratory system given that I was reaching Delhi from a relatively much cleaner town, Bhuj, I decided to escape that God forsaken area for a couple of hours (I’d reached way too early) by searching for a restaurant to eat and spend some time at. But there were none nearby, just a manic rush in the people, with noise-less electric scooters darting here and there, taking full advantage of their quick acceleration, darting around like wayward thoughts personified.

Searching for a restaurant, a man approached me and told me that wearing  a backpack and an out-of-place expression , I  looked like the textbook-tourist and I was immediately given some advice – “stay safe, you will definitely be looted – your phone, wallet and other things will vanish before you know it.” While this sank in, he wheeled out his scooter, told me he’d take me to a hotel where I’d get good food, although it would be non-vegetarian. Looking at the mad rush of traffic, which didn’t seem any signs of slowing down even though it was nearing 9 pm now, I decided I could always eat just the gravy, if not the flesh and accepted the offer. I did wonder to myself “What if this is a novel way of looting someone? Once I’m on his scooter, with a heavy backpack, that’s it, isn’t it?” But then, he called his family out, told them where we’re going and somehow it looked as if he wouldn’t be harmful at all, just a gut feeling, and I hopped on. He told me this is a bad area , to be alert and to not take auto rickshaws late at night. Torn as I was in choosing to believe a reality of the world I didn’t want to believe in, I nodded. Had a quick dinner and did take an auto back to the metro station, and the way it was driven told me this place was something else – all sense seemed to have left people, and the ride gave me an all too uncomfortable peek into the minds of the traffic, moving in a manic rush to reach somewhere,  with a thoughtlessness which had pervaded into everyone’s soul at the same time. Everyone was going nowhere quickly and riskily.

Now, I’m at Sacred Rock. the landmark boulder, looking straight into speeding incoming buses, trying to read the number plates and tour operator names of buses as they zoomed towards the flyover, their headlights blinding me. How is anyone going to be able to read a number-plate between a bright pair of headlights? But somehow it happened, and I was off to Dehradun.  The bus was neat and run professionally and that meant I could sleep well after my seemingly first-world trauma-esque experience of the evening. Reaching Dehradun, I  saw that on that day atleast, most people at the bus stand in Dehradun did not understand the word “queue” and somehow I got my ticket to Uttarkashi by passing money through several hands (not via a bribe, I literally had to pass the fare amount down the line for the ticket to travel backwards through the line). I boarded a bus and we sped on.

In Uttarkashi, the first thing I did was to book a room – I walked as far as I could, chose a hotel farthest from the city center and settled down, harrowed by an experience of the cities. Just three years out of big cities and I had almost been knocked down. A quick bath and a stroll down to the river Bhagirathi, walking through the town, Uttarkashi seemed to be a quieter, peaceful place after the chaos of the past few hours. However, as I walked around, I saw that the people didn’t really seem to have the peacefulness of the place, and when that happens it rubs on to the place, making the place noisy and chaotic and thus the people noisy and chaotic too ending in a vicious circle.

If a place is peaceful and calm, either the place must be special, or the people must be special, or could it be that maybe the observer alone is so…?

Uttarkashi was cooler, and I enjoyed the respite from the heat, and strolled around parts of the town while seeing some beautiful wall art.

After spending a day over there, just walking along the river, transitioning out my hysteresis and inertia, I decided to take a shared cab to Gangotri the next day. I’ve taken shared cabs before, and it is always a story in itself. It was so this time too. “Somehow”, I got assigned the last seat (sideways facing) but after spending years travelling like that in BMTC Volvo buses and cabs in Bangalore, it didn’t really matter to me that much – sitting sideways facing doesn’t bother me any more.

I met Gaurishankarji, an old gentleman from Chennai with whom I shared a cup of tea as we waited for the cab to fill up. As we waited and more passengers started filing in, we heard the drivers sharing and arguing about their day to day things – “how come the cops said this is a 8+1 seater only? I can make him count that this is 9+1 seater…! Ganit fail kara doonga uski..!” (“I’ll prove his math wrong!”)” – and on that encouraging note, we gulped down the last of our tea knowing our leg space was going to be moderate, and not luxurious. As we shuffled into our seats, there were 4 of us in the seats which could comfortably hold maybe 2 adults and an average sized backpack. Not wanting to be disproved and scolded by our strict math teacher, we settled in. There is wisdom in the old saying – An angry math teacher doesn’t make a safe driver. Think about calculation and substitution errors he may make on the road! So we all sat down cosily – look at how comfortable we were, who needs a seat-belt when you’ve got each others backs like this?

As we went on in our journey, we talked about our career paths and the careering road / drive on which we were on, and what we planned to do when in Gangotri and around. Gaurishankarji and I connected well and we spoke a lot about his reasons and mine of coming here, and also our intersecting past in the south of India, a half continent away. He was studying the Upanishads (which was something new for me, that people studied them so seriously that they’d travel alone all the way, 2000 km away at the ripe young age of 70+ years in what was tough terrain by all means) and I was interested in hearing more. We hung out together and I could see that he kept his word wherever he promised someone – neither was he thoughtless while speaking, nor so in action after that. I think that was one of the first observations about him which worked for me.

We reached Gangotri by noon and immediately checked into a hotel while Gaurishankarji asked me to join him while he did a Ganga-snaan. I could see the mighty peaks now, with clouds spilling, draping, floating over, a softness of form merging so seamlessly with the rugged landscape – there seemed to be such a balance between what we associate masculinity and feminity with, coming together so beautifully, in an unifying manner, bringing out the best in the other.

Having freshened up and now upstream where there were fewer people, I saw Gaurishankarji take his Ganga-snaan, praying, applying abhisheka on his forehead, shoulders, elbows and chest. I hadn’t taken my water bottle and I’d thought it wouldn’t be too much time before we came back, but we met a few other people on the way, some fellow students of his, and the whole thing turned out to be more than 2.5 hours long. In the meanwhile, someone mistook me for a photographer who would take photos and sell them hard copies. I did take a photo of them and noted down their address and email ID and forwarded it to them later on.

All this time in the cold, bare-feet for almost 2 hours, hungry and thirsty in the thin air (Gangotri is at an altitude of more than 3,000 metres (10,000 feet) above sea level and I was starting to feel a bit concerned about whether I’d been a bit foolish. We hurried down to have lunch, and apart from being tasty, it was healthily made and gave me almost instant warmth. I experienced that digestion was exothermic in nature that afternoon and cherished it fully.

As afternoon faded into evening, I wanted to call up Pri, but my phone couldn’t catch any signal. I strolled down towards the market area in search of an alternative and found an “old-fashioned” STD booth. Not having seen once since many years, I immediately could imagine a small fan, a large LED display which counted the time and displayed the amount, but instead of all that, there was just a tiny feature phone with a BSNL connection. How time changes things! This booth would become a daily place for me to visit.

On one of the days, I was strolling next to the river next to Surya kund, where I was called by a Sadhu who asked me to avoid a slippery section of rocks and come towards him. As we sat and chatted, it turned out that he had grown up in Bangalore, and had renounced everything after 5 attempts at leaving his lavish lifestyle. We started talking and he shared that he was not from Bangalore anymore but from the Himalayas now, and how this is one of the places left where the pollution of the ”tann” and ”mann” can be reversed. In this Kalyug, people were becoming like pigs, he said, and just like if you wash a pig clean and put it in an armchair of velvet, the pig will still want to wallow in mud and filth. As we continued speaking, he mentioned how he had reached the mountains, and how it had taken several lessons to reach where he was now, much more in touch with himself. He shared how he had to walk for several days in the mountains with his Guru , and once when choosing to sleep in a cave, his Guru could detect an ill-spirit there. The Guru fought the spirit the whole night while he waited outside in the cold and come early morning, the Guru could suppress the ill spirit, blessed it and set it free. That, he told me, is the definition of a saint – “one who helps and guides even those who try to hurt him” – much like the sandalwood tree which gives fragrance to the axe that cuts it. We spoke about Karma being a great equalizer and how even a glass of water given / taken adds to it. He mentioned how sages and seers are floating in the astral plane in the Gangotri region and this is why it is easier to tap into those energy fields and feel spiritual. As evening fell, we went on a walk together, and pausing at Surya kund, he told me that there is a natural Shivling at its base. There’s a rainbow formed when the sun is directly overhead at fixed times of the year. Going into the past, he shared how Shivji had arrested the Ganga’s fall from heavens (“the Ganga is not an ordinary river – it is a “Dev – nadi”) and had He not broken the fall, it would have gone into “paatal lok”. This is the steepest fall of the Bhaghirathi, he said.

He guided me towards Pandav Gufa, about 2 km away, which he said would be a good warm up for my trek, and I set off through a beautiful forest trail, with soft, damp soil covered with pine leaves holding yeaterday’s rain drops. I was surprised to see colorful and tiny plants growing on the rocks and I realised that even the mountain is basically a rock, isn’t it? Don’t forests grow there too? In my stupor, I often ignore and overlook so many things…

I saw baby pine trees, the giants of the future, which although uncertain, is something each of them is going to help shape – and when I realised that, I was not alone in my journey as an “eco buddy” but being accompanied by millions of trees and millions of animals who are maintaining the food chain, habitats and the forests and weather systems which bring and control life. Suddenly, I didn’t feel alone – in a lonely patch of a forest in a remote part of the mountains, I felt connected and could recognize something so tangible and permanent that no one could take it away from me.

I called it a day post an early dinner and there was a healthy worm on the window in the hotel – It turned out it was a “Khajeera” in local speak and when I asked if it was harmless, the guys running the hotel said “Oh yes” and the next day morning, it got changed to “Oh no, it can go into the ear, better be careful”. I wonder why people go in such loops. Am I one of them too?

The next morning, a slow start to the day was had, since I knew it would be an intense second half with Swamiji who had invited me for lunch. I was feeling a bit alone, not used mainly to so much alone time, and had been looking forward to meeting people here. While walking towards the Ashram, I got drenched in the drizzle, and started shivering a bit – running off to take cover under an overhang, I saw a thermometer hanging there which showed the temperature at 4 degree Celcius (and my stupidity at 100/100 levels). I wasn’t wearing shoes, gloves, any head gear and neither thick pants. I ran off to the hotel, changed back into dry and double layers and was now feeling so much better.

After spending the day with Swamiji, I then bumped into Anantha ji – who was working in the field of education and we spoke a bit about quite a lot. Or did we speak a lot about just a bit? He sang songs and made me sing a Rabindranath Tagore song with him, and he was taking notes in between, including of what I was saying, and he’s only the second person who has done so – the other one being – me! 🙂 Anantha ji was an extremely soft person – like a nascent leaf. I later on sang a school prayer with him.

It had been a long day, with several intense discussions and I was tired and cold. I slept with my thermals , cap and socks on and slept like a log. It had rained every single day I was there and I woke up stiff with my nose feeling cold inside when I breathed in. Was I coming down with a cold just a few days before my trek? Was it the generator’s fumes outdoors which had triggered it? Fear, like cold, sneaks in through any gap.

Out of curiosity I woke up and went to check how hard it was raining – I could hear the dripping of water on the tin roof, but as soon as I opened the door, I could see blue skies, bright yellow sunshine and the fresh greens and whites on the mountain slopes. The dripping noise was a wet saree drying out. It had been a fox-pass (faux-pas) and there was sun on the right , sun on the left and sun on the top of the mountains. Yipee! I stretched a bit , did my dance steps privately before bumping my head on the low door frame on the way out of the room!

I deceided to celebrate the sunshine by washing clothes after a cup of chai. Everything had changed, including my breakfast spot – the restaurant had shifted outdoors for me, and I was served food and beverage under the infinite canopy of a picture postcard sky. “Sooraj maharaj nikal gaye hai ji..cheer pe aa jaao!” (“His Majesty, the Sun has appeared, come over this side onto the cheer (chair, he meant)”) – oh, the accent is something I enjoyed so much and have brought it home with me, along with these words which I utter every winter when I sit outside to eat my breakfast.

Ananthaji came by and we walked again towards Paandav Gufa, and had coffee there. The Babaji at Pandav gufa was well stocked and we enjoyed our time there talking about a few things, including politics, since it was election results week. Walking back, we bumped into the friendly guys who ran a tiny hydel power station there, and had some freshly made tea again. A round of singing songs was had, and being local guys, we requested them to sing a local song – they sang a Garhwali song about how the Tehri Dam flooded the entire Tehri village , and submerged it entirely – and alongwith it, drowned the memories that village boys had of their village. It was a poignant moment – two grown-up men, working in harsh weather the year round, singing a song about the village they grew up in after it was submerged in the reservoir of a dam, while working in a tiny hydel-power plant themselves…

I then had lunch with a film-maker (the number of different people I met on this trip everyday was unprecedented and so exciting for me) and after spending an hour talking with her, Anantha and I bumped into a Doctor-Dentist couple from Lucknow, one of them an avid trekker and the other a complete rookie. As I observed how comfortable and uncomfortable both of them were respectively at the prospect of their upcoming trek, I wondered how their relationship would be after their trek. Would they be stronger and closer, or colder and distant, a giant wedge of a rock between them? I would get to know in a few days time, when I did see them after my trek, and I was happy to see that while both seemed tired, they were both smiling and looking at them, so was I. Mountains can really bring people together.

Over these few days, I also saw trek leaders leading and bringing back groups of trekkers back to the starting point. Everything from the complexion, to the energy, to the way the backpacks are packed and carried suggested either the beginning or ending phase of the trek – along with who enjoyed it and who was just limping back, looking for a bed, hot water and a long session of sleep. I wondered what would the life of a trek leader be like? How about the cook and the porters? I recognized one of the trek leaders from having seen him on his Instagram profile and I thought to myself – wow, it is a small world.

There was ample time for me to sit and soak myself in the majestic scenery, in the vast open air campus of this outdoor university, having talked with many “visiting professors” and I realized that the Self has the potential of the Himalayas from which flows the Ganges, and that each of us , whether as an individual or in a relationship, is a peak in ourselves. With this thought, I strengthened my intention to not only do the trek well, but experience it to my fullest.

Just a day to go for the trek now and we walked to the entry point of the national park – a two kilometre walk for which no permit is required. We met Dhyan (his Indian name, he told me) from Brazil who had a powerful calming wisdom in his face and actions and we walked together to Fauji baba’s ashram. While there, he told us how he’s been coming to Gangotri since more than 3 decades and is studying psychosomatic illnesses in this setting as well as back home. He mentioned one of his visits in the 90’s when it was close to winter and on one of the nights, the sleeping bag wasn’t enough to ward off the cold. His body started freezing , going rigid and his voice was stuck too. He could just move his eyes and think; every other motion seemed locked. And as he lay there, scared and thinking he was going to die, he felt the urge to pee. Thinking about the warmth it would bring, he thought of doing so inside the sleeping bag, thinking it would warm him up enough to move – but what if it didn’t warm him up enough? The wetness would freeze him even more after that. So he held it, till his full bladder started making him shiver uncontrollably trying not to burst – and that warmed him up! He got out, relieved himself and relieved by all yardsticks(!) , he decided not to sleep again till the sun rose.

As he sat awake, he saw the most brilliant night sky he had ever seen.

Post this “little” personal sharing, we entered Fauji baba’s ashram and started talking. Fauji baba, as the name suggests, was in the armed forces before stepping out and now runs an ashram near Gangotri. He shared how he stays there throughout the year quite often and how the real meditation starts in winter, when everything is packed under several feet of snow. He was thankful to the river (Ma Ganga) for having allowed him to stay here and was vocal about how you become what you put in your body – hence, breathe, drink and eat only the healthiest and purest of substances, he said. Mothers are the first Gurus for everyone, followed by the teachers (who are also called “Gyaangurus”) and then followed by your spiritual gurus. The spiritual guru purifies the body and spirit and shows you the route. There can be several routes to the same place and the walking is ours, the way of walking is ours, but the direction and path of walking are shown by the spiritual guru. When we asked him, like surely many would have asked him, how to walk the path – the first thing he said, counter intuitively it may seem, was to sit down. How do we walk the path while sitting down? By preparing the body to be able to sit , for days together, and that’s when you know what is inside the body – you can begin to see the inner parts, and after seeing those parts, you begin to understand the Tatvas, and then you purify these Tatvas and then you meditate. Just before leaving for the day, he shared how everyone’s minds and bodies are the same, and yet we are all different – think about it, he said.

It was now close to the beginning of the trek.

Gathering at the hotel where the trekking team was, we quickly got introduced and then instructions were shared – how to pack a backpack, how to tie shoelaces so you don’t have to stop on slopes and bend down on loose rock, campsite etiquette, to leaving no trash on the slopes, getting our health cards, and so on.  With these things sorted, we went to our individual rooms, ready to leave the next morning.

Post breakfast, the next morning, we started walking, hiking on the broad trail parallel to the river, past Fauji baba’s ashram where I’d had lunch a couple of days ago, getting to know each other as we exchanged formalities, and getting stopped at the entrance to be told about how no plastic is to be disposed off beyond this point. We were encouraged to bring it down with us if we found any, and we had been given eco-bags for picking trash up along the trail. There wasn’t much of it, surprisingly, but we still got to work when we saw it. And this kind of activity is infectious – it catches on and soon there were many hands working on it.

On the way, the tall trees framed the huge mountains and sometimes hid them in their canopies. Sunny days made the colors stand out all the more and the brilliant white of the snow caps against the pure blue skies and the vibrant forest colors were a delight to view, to the point that when I later showed these photographs to a few friends, they told me that such clean and pristine environments aren’t possible, and that this was a trick of the camera! This was stepping into a large, 3-dimensional, larger than life landscape painting – something extraordinarily beautiful..

Crossing wooden bridges across narrow streams, cameras clicking here, videographers experimenting with angles and light there, we walked on towards our first campsite which was Chirbasa, named after the Chir trees (blue pine). The terrain was fully stony , hard and a couple of ascents and descents were tricky with the broken terrain also slippery at places.

At this point, I’d already been at high altitude since a few days, where I had been walking around loads, which meant that I was breathing well. But a few of the trekkers who’d reached directly from cities, in tight schedules bookmarked by weekends, felt the punch of the thin, cold air, and struggled through the day. This is where the trail begins to hit you in the stomach and knocks the wind out of the lungs and exposes one’s fitness levels (or the lack of it).

We camped overnight and the next day, we left for a short 5 km walk, from Chirbasa to Bhojbasa (so named because of the Himalayan Birch – or Bhojpatra tree – on whose papery bark, several manuscripts were written).

The trail had been mimicking the bends of the river and as we cautiously and quickly tiptoed through rock-fall prone areas, I quickly grabbed a photograph – this was so different to what we commonly see. The road was following the river, not the other way round – not the bent, broken, blocked, dried up rivers feeding our greedy cities.

Carrying on, we heard a few fist sized rocks move and our guide immediately pointed to a Bharal (a blue sheep). Spot it in the picture below!

As we walked ahead the views kept getting richer in variety and color. The scale of the mountains exploded – we were already at fairly high altitude and we could only imagine as we gawked at these much higher peaks around us. They seemed to be starting from where we were!

On the way, we would often meet a swamiji who would be on his way towards higher ground, or should I say, a higher plane of being? They were of light feet, carried little on their backs and seemed attuned to the terrain while we labored on.

With the sun rising up, there was a mesmerizing game of light and shadow played out on a gigantic scale.

The sun was welcome generally, but it did feel warm when one was continuously walking under it, and the occasional shade offered by trees was both welcome and chilly.

Eventually we reached the campsite, freshened up and headed towards the river. There was a meditative swamiji by the riverside, who made for a calming visual experience and what I still find to be a powerful photograph. All along the trail, people would revere the mighty river and deep in his meditative state, I wondered whether among other things, gratitude towards the river must be getting offered too…?

We had a day off here – a bit of time to acclimatize, to soak things in and also practice climbing up some of the scree / loose rock. I wasn’t too sure about my right knee which has had niggling issues since a while now, and inspite of the physiotherapy and the exercises I’d been doing, I didn’t want to push too much on the buffer day. It was a nice little hike to a hill nearby and on the way back, we saw one of our trek leaders (who also doubled as a cook) run down the mountain in a controlled way at incredible speed. The locals are exceptionally sure footed, agile, fit and inspiring.

We got up around midnight to gaze at the skies and stars and except for one source of light, there was hardly any light pollution which led to some stunning star sightings. I’d carried a tripod along with my new camera and with help from one of my trekmates, we managed to grab a slice of the  heavens. (Full brightness recommended)

As we gradually started freezing (it was not the camera alone in long-exposure mode), I remember how at the top of the opposite mountain a rising halo of light started spreading. It was rising steadily and as it suddenly rose over the ridge and burst out, it was as if it was a powerful headlight of a huge bike – something from out of Harry Potter – in my mind, it was Hagrid on Sirius Black’s motorbike! In reality, it was the moon which rose so starkly that it blinded out the stars and we could see shadows of mountains and our own shadows as we huddled back to our tents. Such a routine occurrence, yet so powerful.

The next morning, we were ready to leave. Pulse Oxymeter readings taken, breakfast finished, we took our lighter bags with just water and some packed lunch and started off. The earlier route had been washed away and so we had to cross the river in a trolley strung across the river over thick steel cables. We all took turns pulling groups of 4-5 people across the wide river and immediately felt our breakfast being utilized completely! Imagine the porters and their energy reserves!

Walking along the river towards the glacier now, excitement and altitude were rising. We were told to walk carefully since there were lots of loose rocks. We did so, and started climbing.

Climbing higher now, we crossed streams on mountain sides which felt a bit bizarre – apart from the river, this really felt like a desert with hardly any plants and just tons and tons of boulders. Expecting the rocks to be slippery (which they were surprisingly not) we proceeded carefully, not wanting to get our socks wet through our shoes.

Halfway up towards Tapovan, we paused and looked at the Gaumukh glacier. It was mighty! Huge and long and such a thick layer of ice carving out a way. It’s sad to see how quickly Himalayan glaciers are melting and so much of it is down to each of us just as much as it is due to large industries and governmental policies.

As everyone caught up, it was time to continue moving upwards. We had been told by our trek leader (who caught a fever and had stayed back) that we would lose our minds at the sheer beauty of the Akash Ganga stream. I thought he was saying so to motivate us, and there was more than a bit of exaggeration in it. However, as we climbed, at one point the stream seems to be pouring out of the skies – this is because the terrain has a certain kind of setting / illusion there where the plains and mountains aren’t visible from the slope below. It was a sight to behold.

Carrying on, what was further unexpected at this altitude and terrain was seeing flowers and butterflies and the colors they added. The added magic of seeing Mount Shivling in front of us was priceless too. Next to it, we saw Mount Meru, and along with Mount Bhagirathi, that made up an impressive list of Himalayan Giants – it always blows my mind away knowing that there are close to a hundred mountains above 7000 m in altitude in the Indian-Eurasian belt.

Spending some time at these meadows, we spent some time catching our breath, talking a bit, eating our lunches and taking a few photographs.

In some ways, for many, the trek was over – the high point was reached, and I started hearing talks about the next thing to do – another adventure activity, a big platter of food, and even thoughts of returning to office. I recognized how I used to think just like this, rushing to the next moment while this moment was very much alive, and I thanked myself for learning and my teachers for teaching me how to remain in the present with more awareness. We hobbled down over big boulders – it was incredible how there were so many rocks! Finally we reached the mouth of the glacier, which we warned should always be at a safe distance, since car sized chunks may fall suddenly and the resulting wave will knock us down. It was huge, a wall of ice, a huge block from which started a river thousands of kilometres long.

On the way back to camp, we saw a big rockfall happening – check out how the valley filled with rock dust and the plume of dust thrown up as a big boulder speeds down the mountain. The sound it produced in the otherwise silent valley was loud – like a series of gunshots.

Now, it was more or less an easy path towards the camp – follow the river downstream. I picked up speed and sped ahead. And for about an hour or two, I was walking alone, in a wide river bed, next to a roaring stream, flanked by high mountains with no one in sight. I’d not done that before, and haven’t done that since, and somehow it has left an incredibly liberating feeling in my memory.

The next day morning, we were to walk back to Gangotri – a long day of trekking and I started the day with visiting one of the Ashrams at Bhojbasa. I shared a cup of tea with a team attempting Mount Bhagirathi – all of them looking younger, fresher, stronger and so much determined.

Back at camp, we finished packing up and it was time for a group pic.

The walk back to Gangotri got over too quickly, the trek was over.

For now.

Trees..

“Poems are made by fools like me,

But only God can make a tree.”

~~~

Have seen a bit of rainfall here, and the almost instant sprouting of fresh leaves, tiny shoots and fresh grass which followed is nothing short of magical. Am missing some of the trees of Bangalore, those faithful friends of mine who waved when I saw them, who guarded the roads on both sides, who celebrated each season differently, who towered mightily and yet humbly, and who literally breathed life into me..

Grüß Gott!

After the long entry on the Har Ki Dun trek (https://gabbartrip.wordpress.com/2016/03/28/valley-of-god/), my  thoughts were still in the mountains, and I was transported back to Berchtesgadener Land in Germany. We were lucky that we could visit the area twice and could spend some time hiking, seeing, experiencing the local culture and practices.

The first time we’d visited the area, we were on a longer trip which had a lot of places thrown in – reason being this was our first big vacation in Europe and we didn’t know if we would be there again the following year. As a result, there was lesser time per place, but nevertheless we loved the place so much that we returned six months later to South Germany and spent a full week there.

Here are some memories from both the trips:

Arriving in Munich in the morning, we had a few hours which we used to hop over to the Oktoberfest.

Happy chugging from the 1-litre Maß 🙂

Emptyish hall when we clicked this. Started filling up soon as the music, beer, conversations and laughs started flowing

Friendly lady selling Pretzels

Just before the train pulled into Freilassing, there was an announcement saying that one of the staff was celebrating 30+ years of service with Deutsche Bahn and this was going to be his last day. I think he was from this part of Germany, which is why the staff seemed to have arranged a quick celebration for him at this station. There were friends, family and well-wishers cheering on and a lot of patting on the back, hugging and clapping. Such a nice gesture!

Heading on towards Berchtesgaden Hbf now, we saw glimpses of peaks from the train itself. Being our first year at such a northerly latitude, we were extra keen in checking out if autumn had yet graced us with its colours or not.

We reached in the late afternoon / evening, and called it a day at the campsite.

The following morning had started off cloudy, but the sun was rising somewhere behind the peaks and would soon clear matters.

We rushed to the stream nearby, the Königsseer Ache, which was flowing fast and steady. Beautiful companion to have..

We wanted to see the lakes and go on a hike, so grabbing a tiny bit of breakfast we started off. The lake was reflecting a bit too much light for our liking, especially after us having seen some photographs of how incredibly beautiful it could be – we were a bit disappointed and decided to come back later when the sun had moved in the sky.

We headed off, no particular place in mind, and saw a trail board pointing and leading to “Grünstein Klettersteig” and headed off. At that point, we didn’t really know that much German, and we thought it would be an easy trail. We were right, it was easy, but only because there was a trail all the way as an option. Klettersteig basically means a ‘Via Ferrata’ (Iron road) and we had neither the experience nor the equipment in that bit. Having said that, I’m really looking forward to climbing it that way now, sometime!

The ‘non-Klettersteig’ trail was level and broad, and easy, but where it lacked in making us really work out, it awarded beautiful views – dense forests, views of the lakes, trees in different shades, views of higher peaks across the valley and so on..

This was also one of our first hikes together, as in where both of us were not only hiking together physically, but we were much closer mentally and emotionally as well.

treetops on Fire! Autumn was on its way!

Along the way, we saw several elderly people hiking and found that very impressive. It was a recurring theme, how sport and fitness was such a lifestyle there, and how even the elderly are in such good physical condition! It also led to the sightings of a white mop of hair hurrying down the trail, catching the sunlight and reflecting it, a quick smile exchanged. Loved it!

Scenes from a memory..

As we came out of the thicker woods, we saw the Watzmann massif, and it looked daunting even from far off. We didn’t have the time on this trip to try and hike there, and in our next visit to this area, we couldn’t climb it since it was ‘nicht Schneefrei’ (not snow-free). However, it still left a mark and we still think about it a lot.

Here’s a popular and lovely imagination of the Watzmann family.

“”Watz” means rough, hard, stony and “Mann” means Man. An old legend explains the unusual formation of the Watzmann massif. Long, long ago, the area was ruled over by a cruel king called Watzmann, along with his queen and their seven children. The whole family was merciless and unfair, trampling down the crops on their wild hunting trips and taxing the people to starvation. Every Sunday the inhabitants prayed that they would be rid of these tyrannical rulers. One day, their prayers were heard at last. While in the hills on a hunting expedition, the entire family perished in a great storm and was turned to stone. And there they still sit today: the main peak is the king towering over the land, his queen sits to the left and the seven royal brats huddle between them.” – from ‘Your complete guide to Berchtesgaden” by David Harper.

By this time we were really hungry, having had a tiny breakfast and a light dinner the previous night. A Bavarian Weißwurst helped push us on.

The views were pretty, the trees seemed to be framing a landscape photograph!

Soon we were at the summit.

There was a board or two which shared details of the trail.

Back home, or rather back at the camping place, we saw the sun set on the peaks, a beautiful sight.

It was getting chilly, and we zipped ourselves in the tent once dinner was done and slept off, content.

The next day was foggy again, and an early rise and visit to the lake was rewarding.

The sun soon shooed the mist away, although both got trapped in a spider’s web

We went back to the lake later on and did a short hike till the Malerwinkel Aussichtspunkt (literal translation – Painter’s corner viewpoint), which as the name suggests is a view point from where a lot of painters painted the beautiful landscape. Personal note: I’m thoroughly enjoying pronouncing all the German words right now, after a gap of a year . People say the language sounds angry / harsh / unfriendly, but I really like the sound of it.

The next time we came to Berchtesgaden was in Spring, around the middle of April, and it poured for 5 days out of the 8 days that we were there!

However ,there were some delightful scenes to be seen right outside the tent, as overnight rain had left a carpet of water on the ground. Wildflowers had just started to bloom and along with the cool water, the whole place looked so fresh green, and fertile.

It was not breakfast time for us alone.

The lake was mysterious and intriguing green – different from what we had seen a few months back. Time and the seasons had woven a completely different shade into the surroundings.

We went off towards Obersee and saw some incredible reflections and shapes

Here’s the ‘normal’ view and the rotated photograph of the same view

There was another hike of about an hour and a half, which we took basically the entire day to complete(!) since the views were just too pretty. The clouds and the light kept changing, the sun went westwards as the day progressed and somehow the lake started getting stiller and seemingly clearer, and this is what we were offered a vision of:

‘mit Spiegelung der Berge’ – with a reflection of the mountains. I always see an ink pen with a green nib and a black body when I see this photo – almost as if the Supreme artist has taken a pause while drawing this out and left his brush here. Do you see it?

Farther on, the views just got even more stunning.

After 4 days of non-stop rain, gray skies and hardly any color, these views were a reward.

At a certain point of time in life, the mind / heart wants more and more, never satisfied with what it already has.

Thy infinite gifts come to me only on these very small hands of mine.
Ages pass, and still thou pourest, and still there is room to fill.

– Rabindranath Tagore

But that day was not one such day. We didn’t want any more / less of sunlight or clouds or wind or still waters or anything else. It was the most comfortable place to be in, the most ideal condition of everything in the Universe, and those five hours flew by in a second, and yet lasted for almost at eternity.

As I sit here typing this a little more than two years later, I feel the same state of mind returning.

Reluctant to leave, and yet leaving without regret, almost as if designed to rub it in, we stumbled onto this board near one of the villages.

”Die Welt hat genug für jedermanns Bedürfnisse, aber nicht für jedermanns Gier” – Mahatma Gandhi, meaning that the World has enough for everyone’s needs, but not for everyone’s Greed.

Powerful. Appropriate. Urgent.

We again went off to Hintersee, now that it was sunny. The magic of this place and the incredible profound powerful beauty of nature just kept surprising us. If this is not wealth, what is?

Here’s something that I had felt when we were here –> https://gabbartrip.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/the-third-eye/

The next day started off bright, but cloudy, and we immediately headed off for another hike (easy to identify the pattern, isn’t it? 🙂 )

We decided to take some photos of the lovely flowers local to this region – we’d picked up a book which mentioned their names and we were trying to absorb the local plants as well.

Driveways were lined like this:

You go left, I’ll go right.

That’s how we go underwater!

This is how the entire hillside looked like:

This tree in its convoluted shape and multiple shades looked like an abstract piece of art.

Little splashes of colors along the way, like tiny medals after completing a few sections of the trail.

Even though it was drizzling and was chilly, the water splashing down on us from the trees felt welcome and like a small prank played between us.

Fresh from a bath

That’s the summit, maybe there was a bit left to climb, but based on the time since the last milestone, we estimated that it wouldn’t be far from here. As such visibility was poor. That’s looking down into the valley, with the trail on the right of the photograph. We soaked in this view, and headed down.

The next day was bright and the river was pretty!!!!  Check out the shade of the water!

We’re all close knit, aren’t we?

spot the evergreens vs the new leaves? 🙂 loved the shades, with the clouds lifting up and revealing higher slopes behind

Saw a giant squirrel going about it’s business, foraging for food, making a forest in the process.

Adjust the brightness, contrast and settings in your brain, then in your camera and you can spot butterflies in the canopy overhead!

Saw more than a few couples hand in hand – a warming sight.

 

Home for a week! 🙂 (the black tent, I mean!)

This style of housing where a small house was built just outside the bigger one, was where the parents stayed once they grew older. We found it to be an interesting, if slightly unusual, idea.

We met a very nice person on this trip, someone with whom we spent a good amount of time, some of it drinking a lot of wine in his caravan, and then going out for a couple of drives and walks. We spoke about a lot of things, and have some very good memories of him. He had taken us to Cafe Reber – home to the delicious Mozartkugeln and several cakes.

He also took us to the Gradierhaus which “is the world´s biggest open-air AlpsBrine Inhalatoriuman, located in Bad Reichenhall´s Kurpark. About 400,000 litres of AlpenSole (AlpsBrine) trickle down the 13 meter high walls, which are covered with hawthorn and blackthorn twigs. Take a walk around the Gradierhaus and breathe in the fresh air enriched with small salt water particles. This ‘sea-breeze’ air has proven to be highly beneficial to the respiratory passages.”

Walking around these walls is considered to be healthy, and we could not help but compare it mentally with how regions near a sea shore leave you relaxed and fresh.

If you didn’t like to walk inside, you could walk around the area, which, on a sunny day, would be radiating some wonderful colors thanks to the beautiful flowers.

A closer look at the ‘grid’ – the wall holds moisture as it trickles down, and gives a cooling effect as well.

Below is a stunning, thought provoking sculpture called ‘Die Pietà’ by Anna Chromy, situated outside the Salzburg Cathedral.

The plaque had the following words:

“Und aus der atmenden Brust.. fühl’ ich die Seele entfliehen
Die leere Hülle als Symbol dessen was uns überlebt:
die Liebe, die wir gaben.
die Werke, die wir schufen.
das Leid, das wir erduldeten.”

English translation to the best of my abilities:

“And from the breathing chest I feel the soul flee,
The hollow covering as a symbol of what survives us:
the love, we gave,
the works, we created,
the pain, we endured.”

Back at the campsite by night, and off to bed, having spent a wonderful day in very good company.

The next day was a sunny day after a lot of days of rain – quick, dry everything, breakfast can wait!

This is the little order book where we could place orders for fresh bread for the following day. Loved the system, and loved the breads, too – Mehrkorn, Kornspitz, Croissants, semmelbrot – most of them were very tasty, especially when we added some dips / jams and tea / soup into the equation!

Back to the routine of wandering outside 🙂

This would however be the last hike of the trip, and we would return back to ‘civilization’ the next day, with enough memories for many years to come.

I am reminded of what I read somewhere, about how ‘He whom God loves, is dropped into the Berchtesgadener Land’, a quote by Ludwig Ganghofer.

~~~

Valley of God

We’d been on our first winter trek, in January this year, to a place called Har-Ki-Dun (Valley of God). We’d wanted to (especially) experience the snowfall and witness the draping of the ceremonial white veil over everything, all the more so after having seen three winters in Germany.

Such is the gravity of the mountains, that I am going to skip the background and other details and dive straight into the heart of the electro-chemical storm that’s still raging in the area of my head where these memories are stored.

Just like the previous trek entry (https://gabbartrip.wordpress.com/2014/03/16/a-magical-trek-to-roopkund/), this will be a fairly long entry, simply because nature and the mountains have so much to offer, that putting it down in few words is tough, and unjust.

We changed several modes of transport and eventually reached Sankri which is the trailhead. The layers of fatigue were washed off when we saw the sparkling green, pristine waters of the Tons river flowing alongside tall pines which in turn carpeted tall hills. In our encyclopedic ignorance, we had thought that we would not be able to see such clear, green waters in India once we had returned back from Europe. But, of course we could. This magnificent collage of colours now seems to be present and stretching from the Julian Alps all the way to the Himalayas and who knows elsewhere. In such a big world, the amount, similarity and the diversity of beauty is indeed astonishing.

Green watered cousin from Slovenia:

The trees and mountains filtered the winter sun’s inclined rays on an anyway tilted face of the earth, and added an enriching layer of long shadows, silhouettes and gentle back-lit shades. We had some chirpy company in the car –Meenal and Anil (meaning Air) with whom the conversation remained a jolly and breezy affair. Her comment (technically an excuse!) of having to sit in the front seat since not only was she alert and awake, but also because she was a good driver and would assist the driver in pressing the (imaginary) brakes at her side, was quite infectious. I see the passenger foot-well as having brakes as well now!

The locals looked different by now – their attire, their features, their language and mannerisms, the type of songs that were played in cars and restaurants . Drivers teased each other and wedding songs played out in the car, which itself was ‘decked’ out in colorful carpets, stickers and a row of glass bangles jangling between the sun visors in the front row! Due to the inclines, a few buildings had vehicle parking on the terrace (which was closer in level to the sloping roads in places) and post lunch, going to the parking lot needed a change in habit. All this ‘foreign’ stuff right within India – just shows that once you increase your sensitivity, the observations just increase many fold. (“The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes” – Marcel Proust)

Reaching the base ‘camp’, the energy of the batch which had just returned was noticeably high. Our group was starting very slowly in that regards, a formal round of introduction not doing much in terms of team building. It would take more than a day’s climbing, a bit of perspective from our trek leader and a round of informal ‘’share-your-most-memorable-moment-in-life” discussion which helped. A couple of people were more instrumental in pushing up the group’s energy and this rubbed on eventually to a point where it felt like a team by the end of the trek.

The first day was 11 km of up and down through a beautiful valley. The mountains were brown and snowless, turning into deep orange in the setting sun’s light. The trail ran alongside the Supin river (the Rupin and Supin rivers join into the Bhaghirathi), and the constant rush of water was impressive to see. Crossing old wooden bridges, and also rafts of planks acting as bridges, we occasionally climbed higher from where the river looked a completely different shade. The trail forked several times, but the trick was to follow mule excreta along the way. Mules are the lifeline here; not only assisting the villagers in their daily transportation but also assisting the trekkers in carrying loads during the trekking season.

Young kids waved wildly and continuously as they saw us walk by lower down in the valley. We waved back, and shared a moment of innocent playfulness with them as we made actions and gestures which they copied, only for us to change them, or change the pace, and wait for them to respond. Smile, rinse and repeat! As always in villages, kids seem to be so full of energy and innocence and able to take joy out of seemingly nothing. This is something we would experience again on the last day of the trek.

Patches of ice on the trail made walking tricky. Parts of the trail looked like they didn’t receive much sunlight (thanks to the mountain slopes and trees on both sides) and it seemed that these patches would melt only when the temperature rose later on in the year.

We had paused for lunch when we had reached a clearing, soaking in the sunlight and the views for a moment before moving onward.

We were a mixed group – young and old (early 20’s to mid-50’s), rookies and experienced (multiple high altitude treks and expeditions), people with different priorities (some who wanted to trek more than talk or photograph more and so on) and it was inevitable that the group split into sub groups. If anything, this led to some photographs of the trail with people on it.

Reaching Osla, an old village, considered one of the older ones in India at about 2000 years old, we took a small break and walked through the small settlement of houses. It was a rich culture locked away in the folds of the mountain, preserved by the isolation and harsh weather of the region.

We are unaware of its history, some have said it is a Shiva temple, some said it is a Duryodhan temple. Need to read more about it.

Musical instruments stored in a house balcony. We were told that each village has a festival every month which is celebrated with music and a big feast

Beautiful wooden houses, storage for straw / grass was very well designed

Stone roofs

Wooden frame for the roof – simple and effective

Probably an Uttarakhandi coat being stitched.

Saw a lot of men playing cards

We saw women washing clothes in a big wooden bowl inside which they climbed and stamped the clothes clean. At the end of the trek, we gave our medicines to Max who was collecting them for the village. We also saw toddlers learning how to walk directly on the rolling terrain, something which was quite scary!

Further on, we saw a frozen waterfall across the valley.

We reached the campsite, legs and resolve a little shaky after the first day’s climb, but the fatigue was nothing that a few moments of rest and some food wouldn’t cure. The importance of staying hydrated was reiterated and by evening all was well. Garlic soup helps in acclimatization and was a healthy welcome choice. We were told to drink atleast 4-5 liters of fluids now.

The wish to see a lot of snow and a deep dark starry night wasn’t really being fulfilled though. There was a lull in snowfall, and the skies were either cloudy at night or were polluted through smoke from the fires lit by villagers to clear land for sowing mainly grass, and by the solar lighting in the villages. However, it was much clearer than the city ‘air’ that we live in and we still saw some spectacular sunsets, moon-rises and shooting stars 🙂 Not being able to see what we’d imagined we would be able to see on cold, dark nights at high altitude was a fair disappointment, but it is easier to get rid of such disappointments in such regions. The scale of everything (the peaks, skies, clouds, forests, meadows, etc) offered much variety, and the almost knife-straight stream trimmed wayward thoughts quickly.

Leaving the Kalkatiyadhar camp the next day, we started climbing. It would be a shorter climb, however it would be the day with the first view of the peaks! Looking back, we caught a glimpse of the beautiful campsite

Greeted by stunning views. The stretch of white is known as Devasuthaj, which reflected the moonlight in a very ethereal fashion. Just loved it.

“The reason why most places of power and grace have always been on mountain tops is because by the time you reach there whatever ideas you have about yourself shall fall apart.” – Sadhguru,  from the book ‘Ultimate Outlaw’.

What Sadhguru has said above makes so much sense. Once broken, if one is conscious, you will be careful and more observant about what kind of image you are building about yourself. Effectively you are getting a chance to reform (re-form) yourself since it is only after you have dismantled certain ideas that you can realign them better. This is what the trail does to you – your notions of limits, strength, control etc. are all dissolved away and replaced with a healthy dose of humility mixed in.

Our guide and sweeper, Max and Monu, heroes who helped out everyone throughout the trek. Proper Kudos to them.

The trail was difficult for the mules as well – with steep drops on one side, and with us taking up space from their paths while we hugged the mountain and forced them to creep towards the edge negotiating us…Felt a little sorry for them..

Nearing the final campsite, the switchbacks and the views got even more stunning.

Light and shadow added even more depth and contrast to the landscape. The colours were stunning – dark canopies, bright tree barks, pale boulders with bright tufts of grass, and of course shiny patches of snow..

The trail criss-crossed paths with semi frozen streams. At a couple of places downstream, we had seen flour mills powered by these waters busily grinding the local cereal.

while the grass seemed to be on fire..

Dogs are much respected in Uttarakhand and there is also a story from Mahabharata associated with them. Next to Har Ki Dun peak stands the (huge) Swargarohini massif. It is said that Yudhishthir chose to remain true to the dog till the end; the dog had been faithful to him and eventually led him to Swarga while the others perished on the way. Hence the peak is named Swargarohini, i,e, Swarga (Heaven) + Aarohan (to ascend)  The dog is considered to have been an avatar of Indra.

Later on, while walking near the campsite, we ”spotted” a ”dog” in the stream. Are you able to as well?

Stunning campsite – flanked by mountains, ego dissolves. Hata peak and (part of) Har-Ki-Dun peak visible here

Colors erupting as the sun sank lower.

Colors erupting and saturating , some colors brighten up the day months, miles and moods away..

Sunset by the river

As the night wore itself and us out, a frozen combination of clogged nasal passages, bursting bladders and numb toes and fingers stepped out into the morning, to the cries of ”Chalo guys!! Chaaaaai!!”. Run! 🙂

Is the sun already up? Yes. But it is not visible. It has risen behind the mountain in the east, and the first sunrays are instead visible on Hata peak in the west! Every day that we saw the possibility of a sunny day, our hopes soared, and the mind got ready, checking knees, ankles, back, shoulders, etc. for suppleness.  We traced the rising sun and the sunlight, as it trickled in, slowly, gathering intensity and pouring into the valley, filling it from top to bottom. The ‘simplest’ of the natural phenomena seem to have the most magical effects. Maybe we would appreciate it a bit more in the cities too, if we were not so hot and bothered about things already. Sigh.

Sun rays on Kedarkantha

Camping here was a privilege. The views were stunning, the weather harsh. Water in our bottles froze inside the tent if you had forgotten to put it inside the woolen liner where body heat would keep it ‘warm’. We had a buffer day here, and a few hours were spent memorably peeping out of the tent, away from the wind.

We had a day off which we spent well wandering off near the campsite towards Jaundhar glacier and the V-A-S-T snowfields nearby.

The scale of the place was spectacular. Check out the tiny specks walking in the centre of the photograph below.

Back at our camp for the final night, we packed up knowing we would be leaving the next day. Sooner than I liked, it was time to turn back downwards. The trek was almost over. Another 2 days of walking and it would be done. Drink, drink, drink – don’t forget to drink – Again, after a rest day at the Har Ki Dun campsite (rest meant walking slower and with just a day-pack) the Partial O2 and heart rate readings had improved. It constantly amazes me how the body adapts.

In our dinner tent, there was a special moment when Max played a song on his phone which he kept inside a steel jug. Check out the Kabir song here –> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rQBn90M9ixo. Thank you Max! 🙂

The next morning, we woke up with one eye on the sky especially since there had been a few snowflakes over the past couple of days. This was the last batch before the trail closed for winter, and all the wonderful support staff would be packing up each camp along the way as we all went back. Our guides and trek leader were concerned about impending heavy snowfall – “It hasn’t snowed since many days, and if it starts now, it won’t stop for several days. We need to move.” Breakfast done, sleeping bags rolled, bodies stretched, water filled, snacks packed, backpack straps adjusted, we start off.

After crossing the village on the way down, we saw a man climbing up with a cloth sling across his chest. We had stopped for a pause and we got an inkling it was a baby, to which he confirmed, saying it was indeed a 3 day old newborn baby. I asked if his mother was ok, and his reply was ‘she is just a few minutes behind, on her way’. To imagine a mother climbing up such steep slopes within three days of delivering a child – that is strength. All our ideas of how romantic life is on the mountains were washed out. We city people seem to be patting our backs for carrying our own back packs…

The views meanwhile continued to be beautiful.

Overall, for us, the trek was challenging, but doable. We were much more disciplined and better prepared than the last time around. Lots of fluid intake, eating proper food (daal / chawal, and not junk food), listening to the body and mind, stretching at the start and end of the day, breathing deeply, walking around the campsite once the day’s trek had ended helped us acclimatize better.

Edit: I am reminded of these psychotropic words by Albert Camus when I think about the experience now: “In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer.”

What pained me a lot was seeing the rubbish litter of plastic wrappers, defacing this majestic work of creation like ugly graffiti – “Man loves plastic” or “We came, we munched, we littered”. So disrepectful and harmful. Awareness and concern / compassion towards something beyond ourselves is what will slow down and hopefully kill this plastic menace. Lessons we learn in the mountains, in nature – consume less, live sensibly, plan before you do something, show some respect, be punctual and disciplined – these need to be brought back to our cities. Life without a mobile phone is possible, an orange peel may work very well as a scrub and sunscreen, listening to your body and respecting it will take you places, how you talk to the people in the mountains maybe can be brought back ‘downstairs’. We had been given Eco-Bags by Indiahikes (http://indiahikes.in/green-trails/), and we tried to pick up as much litter as we could. The quest and resolve to consume ‘increasingly lesser’ packaged items (food, lifestyle, etc.) got strengthened there (take just 1 biscuit packet between the two of us, instead of the one per head allocated) and the same quest continues everyday here as well. I hope I can lead a lifestyle with minimal long lasting impact, and hope that several small steps will quickly help me cover a lot of ground in that direction. What motivates me to consume lesser is the timeline showing how many years things take to decompose (bottom of the page in the link above). It is quicker, and better, to let a poor habit decompose instead 🙂

Again, this trek would have been very different and difficult without Monu and Naaru (assistant trek leaders / sweepers), Naina-the cook, Max, our trek leader and the other staff who were so capable and jovial while doubling up and performing multiple roles seemingly effortlessly. Also thanks to the guys off the slopes and in the offices who make the entire process easy and efficient. May you all be happy and trek safely!

Edit: Here’s something I would wish for you and for everyone who might want to experience this : “May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view. May your mountains rise into and above the clouds. May your rivers flow without end, meandering through pastoral valleys tinkling with bells, past temples and castles and poets towers into a dark primeval forest where tigers belch and monkeys howl, through miasmal and mysterious swamps and down into a desert of red rock, blue mesas, domes and pinnacles and grottos of endless stone, and down again into a deep vast ancient unknown chasm where bars of sunlight blaze on profiled cliffs, where deer walk across the white sand beaches, where storms come and go as lightning clangs upon the high crags, where something strange and more beautiful and more full of wonder than your deepest dreams waits for you — beyond that next turning of the canyon walls.” – Edward Abbey

Some of the trek members we had were very inspiring – elderly people in their mid-50’s, who climbed, spoke and understood things  so well that they left a good mark in the memory. I am happy that most of us are still in touch, and I would like to meet all the members of the trek again.

It is difficult to forget an immersion such as this one in nature, the simple reason being that a part of me is still there on the trail, trying to stay warm, soaking in the views, breathing in the clean air and feeling privileged in being able to be having such experiences.

~~~

Blissful monotony

The trees were still,

like meditating Rishis,

seemingly motionless and lifeless,

but as alive as can be.

We bowed to them.

The trees, in so many shades,

raining leaves as Time expanded,

Its canopies, looking like a carpet on the mountainside,

and a decades-old stubble on the mountain top.

We were rooted in the woods.

Accompanied by a chattering stream,

Pebbles, like Jewels in the clear water,

reflecting the golden light,

the transparent paint of His palette,

a festival of colors painted out now.

We were eroded by the stream.

The clouds raced above,

like floating speech balloons,

Their shadows gave us a pleasant chill,

and ever so often, warmed our hearts.

Our feelings danced with them.

A lake came along,

its ripples communicating in binary,

something hidden but majestic.

As if listening to our queries,

its stillness revealed our thoughts.

We spoke with each other.

A few hundred footsteps on,

a roar met us,

a pretty waterfall tumbled down with force,

and sent the spray skywards.

We were drenched in joy.

Autumn wielded its brush,

the forest was a collage,

the creatures in the forest,

singing like wind chimes.

We were in a painting.

Seasons may be repetitive,

Nature’s sights may get familiar,

Life may be uniform,

the weather may be wearying,

We didn’t miss any monotony.

 

~~~

Daily encounters with someone ageless

One of the warmest people we know,

leaves us every evening.

Reminds us that we live in a painting,

one with colorful skies, clouds, grass, trees and reeds.

As he leaves, the shades drip out of the painting,

the tones fade, the hues ooze out.

He walks endlessly,

from horizon to horizon.

Tired, crouched, with slow footsteps,

as he walks away from us;

He brings hope and joy

to the ones who try to see him.

Somewhere, on the horizon,

he seems to gain energy;

which he again distributes to us all,

and fathers the world.

~ ~ ~ ~

He walked away, sure to come back

It finally dawned on us, even though it was a sunset. The setting sun, through a canopy of trees in a wooded area near what we call home, looked like a human figure retreating away from us – walking towards a distant horizon, growing smaller, dimmer and colder as he went along.

“Our first real estate”

I remember the first time I stayed in a tent. It was on a trek and next to a waterfall, rather than on a camping site. I was quite afraid that blood sucking leeches and other ‘creepy crawlies’ would enter the tent at night, and have a gala feast on me. Thankfully, in-spite of the rain spitting down noisily on the tent, I could manage to sleep, largely due to the fatigue from walking the whole day. I woke up the next morning, realized where I was, quickly scanned self and tent, and after having breathed a sigh of relief, got out of the tent. I stepped out and immediately came face to face with the waterfall. Fantastic! How often is it that you can see a waterfall right in front of the main door?

From that day, I have been hooked on to camping. Yes, it can be incredibly hot / cold / humid / wet / hard / windy and the terrain has also been hard / inclined / cold at times, but it has been memorable almost every single time.

Before coming to Europe, the concept of a camping site was fairly new. We didn’t know how they worked, what facilities were provided, and so on. After having camped out for 40+ nights in the past year, ranging from weekend trips to a 20 day camping marathon, we now don’t deny the label of campers which is thrown at us.

The toughest bit on long camping trips is keeping the tent tidy and the smell out of it. We once bought a lot of apples as snacks and left them in the tent in the day while we were out, and after 2-3 days of doing this, the tent smelt sweetly of apples. The same thing happened with Tea. In a fit of nostalgia, I had picked up ‘Indischer Tee’ (Indian Tea) , which was exaggeratedly heavily spiced and aromatised. 3 Days and the tent smelt like a kettle of tea. The tip would be to air out the tent regularly, and lock all these strong aromatic things in a zippered rucksack or something.

Similarly, with typical european weather, the occasional rain shower can’t be ruled out, and hence care needs to be taken to keep things dry. Generally, we follow a schedule of drying / airing things out first thing in the morning while we have breakfast. Breakfast can wait for half an hour if a rainy day has been followed by a sunny day! 🙂

What we missed till pretty late in our trips was a proper pillow/cushion. Easy to amend, buy a small inflatable one, or take one from your favourite couch! 🙂 That helps an immense amount in sleeping peacefully.

A positive ‘side-effect’ of camping is the absence of plug points and reading lights, etc.. You are ‘forced’ to spend time with your thoughts, or with your friend / family. We like that aspect a lot. Plus, we also think that all the radiation from the mobile network and the wi-fi signals roaming around in the cities and cafes and offices can’t necessary be beneficial to our health – a few days of low radiation ‘earthing’ is always welcome!

We have camped mostly since we don’t like city centers too much. I think I personally spend too much time in a box (bus/office/home), surrounded by other boxes (homes, buses, cars, buildings), and a relatively small tent in the middle of a nice grassy pitch, next to a river, under the whispering trees, or close to a mountain is very refreshing for me. It also puts into perspective how little one needs to be fairly comfortable. I could not have put it much better than this –> “ I argued that physical discomfort is important only when the mood is wrong. Then you fasten on to whatever thing is uncomfortable and call that the cause. But if the mood is right, then physical discomfort doesn’t mean much“.

Apart from that, camping can be greener, significantly inexpensive, flexible (most camping sites hardly need reservations for a tent; only caravans need one) and the locations are sometimes fantastic.

Thank God they have some camping sites close to National Parks. I can not imagine rows of hotels and associated ‘services’ being built at some of these places. One more advantage of camping is the people you meet. You meet some truly fantastic people – people who have chosen to camp due to the long vacations / trips they are on. It is fascinating to sit with them, have the simplest, yet memorable breakfast of bread and jam with them, or bump into some very warm and friendly locals and join them for ‘some’ wine and food in their caravan. Some nice people and memories already! 🙂

Most of the camping places, in fact, all of them, have been safe, clean and secure. However, there was one campsite, in the middle of the peak tourist season, where we were a little skeptical about the safety of the tent and the stuff lying inside. What we did still makes us laugh! We cut a hair band and tied it through the zippers of the tent, so that they would not open! Anyone capable of opening knots,  let alone someone with a pair of scissors would have been able to get by! That however, did the job. We felt secure, and enjoyed a good day out. After all, 3 knots aren’t a joke.

We don’t have a car, we have been taking buses and trams everywhere, and it works! The public network is really well laid out, with a bus stop within walking distance from the camp site. There are generally vending machines or a petrol pump or a street-food vendor nearby for the emergency snack when all else is exhausted. There are lockers available at some sites, in other cases, a small bag can be accommodated safely in a neighbor’s caravan or at the friendly reception. There are washing machines, cooking areas, areas to clean the utensils and sometimes even restaurants on site. Germany continues to impress us as there is waste segregation at the campsites too. At other places, we just filter the waste on our own before disposing it. There are small bakeries which bring fresh, hot bread early in the morning. This can be pre-ordered the evening before. Some campsites give you daily bus passes for the city, which again means the convenient of hopping buses at will, free of charge, and free of fishing for change every-time!

We also saw some really creative and very interesting ‘live-in sculptures’ which were available for rent. Needless to say, there are several design iterations which we have started sketching in!

Pedal your way to the next camp site, collect rainwater on the way, and then cosy up at will..!

But, for me, a tent exists at the boundary of indoors and outdoors. It is where you can hear the raindrops, be close to the swaying branches of the trees, feel the wind batter you, and still stay dry (and generally warm).

 

 

Just what the doctor ordered.

A magical trek to Roopkund

As the weather in Germany becomes sunnier and the days longer, we are now looking forward to spending some more time in the mountains. I have been ‘pleasantly haunted’ by memories of the first Himalayan Trek we had done.

Note: This is going to be a (very) long entry! Firstly, as it was a long trek spanning 5 days and around 50 km combined, and also because I love mountains so much that it is difficult to stop talking/writing about it sometimes. 🙂

This was our first Himalayan trek – and it is imprinted in my memory. Strongly. As fractals go, a mountain is a mountain is a mountain. It is we who distinguish, categorize and label them – highest, steepest, toughest, broadest, prettiest, largest and so on. For me, each peak, each mound, each pile of rocks, each monument of stone has a beauty of its own. And much more. Right through late childhood, when my grandmother used to read about the Indian Gods who used to live and meditate in the mountains, the Himalayan mountain range in particular has held a very special place in the heart and mind. Later on, as her eyes started to fail, I would be the one reading to her from her books. The physical description and photographs of the mountains, and the associated mythology, left a strong impression.

After a couple of train rides and a long Jeep ride, we reached the starting point of the trek. We had gone through a trekking community called Indiahikes. We reached the base at a place called Lohajung where the guides laid down the rules and the schedule that we would be following in the days to come. The following day, we started with a small downhill section, crossing and refilling our water bottles at the Neel Ganga river.  This was the first time we would know if we had packed too much or not, what kind of hours we would be putting in everyday and so on. The descent was through a dense, old, forest. The floor was generally covered with a layer of leaves and thick roots. It was Day 1, and energy and enthusiasm levels were high. It was a little strange to be climbing down for a couple of hours when one mentally associates a trek as always gaining altitude, at-least initially. But we weren’t complaining – this gave us a brief opportunity to fall into a rhythm and start feeling the experience. We were accompanied by the local dog ‘Kaalu’ almost till day 4! Thanks to one of our trek-mates for this photograph.

After a small pause at the river, the ascent started. It was a fairly steep switchback that had us exhausted soon. The destination was a grassy field near the village Didina. There was a home-stay arranged here where all the trekkers piled in (something like a trekking hut as seen in Europe). When asked about where and how much we would be trekking the following day, our always-jovial guide simply said “It’s not far..hardly anything..easily doable..” and then pointed at a tall ‘hill’ and said “It’s just behind this hill”!! In the photograph, you can see a couple of clearings at the top of the mountain (in a lighter shade of green) – those were the meadows we would be heading towards. 

At this trekking hut, we were welcomed by glasses of Rhododendron juice. The locals use the flower of this tree as pickle and also drink a juice made out of it, which is locally called ‘Buraansh‘. The juice, apart from being tasty, is supposed to be very good for the heart and we gladly sipped on. Later on, we bought a couple of bottles of ‘rhodo’ juice concentrate and took them home with us. Just a sip, and one is transported back! 

At Didina, we had the evening to ourselves. We headed off in the field and saw a bit of the local population – the women working in the fields, working a fire while cooking, or venturing out to collect some leaves / fodder.

The local kids were busy playing. They were looking curiously at us, almost as if we were from a different species! The kids were very innocent and cute – always smiling and running around. It was a little chilly towards the evening and they were all wearing sweaters and had runny noses. However, their smiles were so infectious, that soon we were smiling with them! Their natural state of existence seemed to be that of being happy. It seemed to us that they were the happiest kids in the world. Had we stopped smiling, they would still have been smiling. But, why would we stop smiling? 🙂

In parallel, the sun was setting and I took a moment to head to a slightly higher level to get a good and clean view of the sky. The sun was going to set behind a mountain and I was hoping I would see a nice display, especially since there was a cloud involved! As the sun sank lower towards the mountain ridge, and as the cloud blew in its path, there was a pretty scattering of light.

While we were clicking photographs of the sunset, one of the kids with whom we had now broken ice with, came up, and looked at us curiously and picked up a multi-purpose stone and started taking photographs of us! As I crouched down so that I was eye to eye with him, he crouched down as well! Soon, the little game escalated and his friend (or was it brother?) joined him as well..! One of the nicest memories I have of the whole trip.

The next day, we headed out early in the morning and after a healthy and filling breakfast, started the ascent through the woods. The smell of the forest, the freshness of the air in the forests in the mountains, and the soft filtered light of the morning sun made for a special setting.

We were now climbing in old, ‘original’ forest, full of big oak trees among others. The destination for the day was a place called Bedini Bugyal. ‘Bugyal’ in the local language means meadow, and these meadows were strikingly beautiful. These high altitude meadows were above the tree line, and as we went higher and higher, the forest suddenly stopped and suddenly we were out in the open.

Now, it would be a fairly long walk across the meadows and upwards. After the continuous session of climbing up, the rolling terrain was much welcome. The weather was lovely too. The group took a pause here to shed their heavy bags, stretch for a while and grab a bite. Since it was just a short pause, the menu was short and quick – Boiled potatoes for the vegetarians, and boiled eggs for the non-vegetarians. 🙂 Done in 15 minutes, we started walking again.

We finally reached Bedni Bugyal – the last bit actually a descend again. It was a vast open field, with views of the mountains pretty much everywhere. We had reached in the late afternoon and it was cloudy. This is the point from where we were hoping to see the huge Mt. Trishul massif. However, we would have to wait. We could see glimpses of the Kaali Daak peak – that’s the pyramidal peak jutting out, covered in ice.

The clouds did part momentarily, and we could catch a glimpse of the mighty Trishul peak behind the Kaali Daak peak. Considering we were already at 3,000+ metres above sea level, and that the mountains in the forefront were easily 6,000 metres above sea level, the size of the Trishul was just astonishing. Whatever was visible of it through the clouds seemed to make it look even bigger than it was.

Evening finally arrived. The light started fading, and local shepherds brought their sheep back home. There were just so many of them, and they covered entire hill-sides!

Unfortunately, I was just too tired to stay up at night and look at the night sky. I also wanted to get some rest so I could climb again the next day. Instead of calling it a regret, I am going to go there again and do that! The night sky would have been very dark, and thus, devoid of light pollution, I would have been able to see our real Home – the galaxy, the stars, space. I had hauled a tripod the whole way, but it still lay strung to my rucksack, unused. Patience, tripod, we will go there again!

Meanwhile, an early rise in the morning did not disappoint. The sky was clear, and while we were catching fleeting glimpses of the huge peaks the evening before, the sight today morning was fantastic. The entire range was visible! We just stood there, glued. Someone from our group had woken up earlier and had strolled up to a higher vantage point – the scale of that human being put things into perspective for us.

While we stared at this icredible sight, the sun rose behind a mountain on our right hand side, and started it’s own daily trek. It cast a long shadow from over the right-most peak in the photograph (compare positions in both pictures). What a view!

After our breakfast, as we climbed up and out of the bugyal, we kept getting stunning views of the landscape. It was difficult to watch and walk up on uneven surface. If we stopped for a pause, we would lose rhythm and body heat. So, generally it was: continue walking up, and pause only to take a sip of water, stretch your back, tighten shoelaces and take a look.

Climbing everyday was not that easy – especially given the weight on the back and the altitude gains. We had gained more than 2500 metres in 4 days! I had run a 10 km marathon before this trek (and part of it was run as preparation for this trek), but that had left me with good cardio strength but poor leg strength. I should have done more squats and stuff like skipping to develop more leg strength. Plus, it was later on, on day 2 that I learnt a better technique of climbing – using my calf muscles as well to give me the last push in each step. The whole process takes a lot of discipline – you have to eat and drink properly. You have to wake up and sleep on time. You have to be alert. You can’t take a break whenever you want to otherwise the body starts cooling down. You have to ration your supply of energy snacks – can’t gobble it up before a steep section and then be left with nothing at the next one. I will not try to flatter my ego by saying that this trek was simple. Although it is listed as moderately easy, I found the trek significantly tough. There was lots to learn. However, and this is probably such a cliche, every day, every session of climbing took it’s toll; but after every session, you were left with a renewed sense of wonder that you could do it. At the evening, you could discard your conception of what you thought yourself capable of just a few days back.

It was a trek of self discovery – along with the tough terrain, you tried to walk through, over and across your fears, your ideas of limits and self doubt. There was a new found appreciation of discipline.

Finally, after what seemed like a very long climb, we reached our campsite at a place called Bhagwasa (also called Bhagwabasa). This was the most barren, desolate, rocky place I had seen so far. Clouds floated in; it was windy and cold. We were exhausted and now short of breath too. This was at more than 4000 metres above sea level now. We would  be spending the night here and attempting the summit the next day, starting early morning at 4 a.m. so that we could descend before the sun rose high in the sky and melted the snow and made it difficult for us to come down.

All through the trek, the importance of acclimatization was reiterated. Drink more water, walk, don’t get into your tents, breathe deeply and so on. A lot of people had taken oral medication (Acetazolamide) to aid better acclimatization to the low oxygen in the high altitude air. A friend of mine had been practicing Yoga since a month back to help with this. Inspite of me taking some of these precautions (minus Tablets), the effects of the rare air was felt. The mouth was dry, the throat was irritated, digestion had weakened. I remember waking up in the middle of the night to force some water down, but in the sleeping bag, with head raised up, the effort of drinking water felt so much that against common sense I threw the bottle away.

One of the things that helps acclimitisation is walking. Drop your bag and keep walking. This was fairly easy to do inspite of the fatigue because of the splendid views!! We surely need to go here again, sometime later in the year towards October to see if we can enjoy a few cloudless views!

The next morning, at 3 a.m. in the morning, we woke up and crawled out of our tents. And were gobsmacked. With our naked eyes, we saw an arm of the Milky way galaxy. It was staggeringly beautiful. Unfortunately, we needed to stick to a timeline, and I missed a staring-at-the-night-sky opportunity, not to mention a long exposure photograph, for which I had hauled my tripod up 2ooo metres of rocky terrain. After shedding the heavy backpacks, after folding our sleeping bags and packing our luggage up, we stood in line and finished breakfast. The rules were again read out to us – basically revolving around discipline and respect. Towards each other and towards the mountain. We headed out in single file, the skilled guides and porters accompanying and helping us, cutting footholds in the hard ice where there were no alternate crossings available. As we trudged upwards, the early morning sun started to light up the sky. The sun’s rays fell first on the Chaukhamba mountain and lit it up. That was a very scenic and moving moment, when you see a mountain top being gradually lit up.

Soon, we hit the first of the glaciers. The guides had cut out foot holds in them – these were big enough to accomodate my feet, and yet not that big that I could move my foot in the foothold and slide. That was a good thing, because on the right hand side, the hill rose up, while on the left, there was 4000 feet of nothingness fed by a long rocky slope. The surface was too loose to secure any ropes or anchors. It would have to be done alone, and with the guides standing nearby watching our every step. The first crossing was the scariest thing I had ever done. Almost as if anticipating a fall, I would lean towards the hill-side, the side which rose up. But what that did was just imbalance you even more since your legs are straight anyway. Almost counter-intuitively, one has to walk almost straight, and a little briskly to cross these patches. It soon became a little easier as we crossed a couple more of these patches.

As we gained height, it was tempting to look back from where we came. Especially so, since at this point, the clouds had started floating in. It was very unique to be able to imagine walking above the clouds. Equally beautiful though.

Almost halfway to the summit, I suffered a bad wobble while walking. That was tired legs and breathless lungs acting up. The routine of 10 steps, 5 breath pause, 10 steps again was not working. The ratio was changed. Two steps, two deep breaths and two more steps. The words ‘laborious steps’ were coming to mind. I spoke with the guide and told him I thought it was too dangerous to climb the rest 300 metres in such a bad state. Eventually we agreed it was the right thing to do and I chose to wait there while the rest of the group went on. A few of the others were waiting at Bhagwasa and had not attempted the last summit climb due to altitude sickness (diarrhea, headaches, vomiting, etc). I sat there and contemplated the meaning of stopping 300 metres below the top. Was I ‘chickening’ out? Was I not acclimatized to this altitude (4500+ metres now) properly? Was my ego hurt? Somehow, I didn’t go into a negative mood, just a little sad, but also hopeful that with some more training, some more technique, I could go higher, and in better shape.

As I sat there, I got a good chance to actually see and feel the place. I got very cold sitting there, exposed to the wind. I started pacing up and down. One more guide was bringing up the last batch of trekkers. I joined that batch for a while and continued climbing for some more time. But, after about 20 minutes, the symptoms deteriorated again. This time, I stopped for sure, not sure if I was in total control of my movements.

I sat on a rock, ate some energy bars, drank some water, walked around to stay warm and waited, enjoying the surroundings. After a while, few members from the group came down, and with them I began our climb down. It was time for one last look upwards for a while.

In the afternoon, we began on the way back. The trek was over. We were heading back to lower altitudes, and eventually city life. As we picked up our bags and started walking downwards, a whole new set of muscles were involved. The blister from the shoe while climbing up did not pain now since the angle of the shoe was pointing downwards. It was a relief for the legs, for the lungs. With each step, the air became thicker, and richer in oxygen. We came across a small rise in the terrain on the way down. This 100 metre height gain was dealt with effortlessly. This just showed that in 24 hours, my body had adapted to this height of about 4200 metres above sea level after spending a day at higher altitude. Along with the natural beauty on this trek, there was so much respect I earned for my body and mind. I understood a great deal about them. 

It has been almost two years since this trek and yet, I can recollect and re-experience the feelings I had then.

I often wonder – what if instead of us changing a place, we were changed by it?

Springing back

Soon, millions of leaves,

will flutter like flags,

signalling the arrival of Spring.

 

The photograph was taken last year, around May. Certain memories and feelings are so strong. We can’t remember a lot of things about our jobs, about mundane activities, about things we did because we just had to. But, on one of our walks outdoors, the breeze, the freshness of the leaves, the sight of pollination, the warmth of the sun – left us revitalized.

Looking forward very eagerly to Spring now!

Love restored

We’d fought with each other,

were now soaked in negativity,

scorched by Anger,

and weighed by Ego.

Sick of ill-feeling,

thorn-like fingers directed

even sharper words to and fro,

ripping our special bond. 

screaming people

Barren trees greeted us,

branches spread out and up,

like a rotating dancer’s arms,

thrown up in happy abandon.

dancing tree

As the sunlight bathed us,

tensions evaporated.

As the clouds floated in,

light filtered through.

It wasn’t blindingly white

or blindingly black now.

Love rushed in gradually,

like the transient light that touched me

 

light filtering through

Strong winds had snapped feelings

and flung them like dead, detached branches.

But as soon as a bit of calm crept in

the breeze left only a revitalizing disturbance –

 – leaving behind ripples but also stillness.

peaceful, windy footprints

An overnight rain shower

had left the ground soft;

As if following a tip,

We softened our words.

Like winter merging into summer,

we caught up with each other

and held hands,

while our eyes followed.

Outdoor itch!

It isn’t snowing. It isn’t warm either. Neither is it dry. It is a bit of everything and almost all of nothing. We were hoping for some snow to put a pretty white border on everything. Or for a coat of the wintry sun’s soft light at a slanting angle. Or for a bit of thin, dry, crisp winter air. 

As I seek a way through the mountains of workload and umpteen tasks, I am very tempted to pitch a tent at the earliest – in the middle of a different kind of infinity. 

I miss this campsite – although cold and windy, it offered visions of the bluest skies. The date and time stamps on the photograph say 31 August, 8.42 p.m, although the imprint is as fresh as ever. 

Rendezvous

Gently, almost shyly,

the sun extinguished slowly,

a layer of clouds holding the colors

alive, like in memory.

Wind kissed the lake’s surface –

a caressing adieu,

tugging the heart’s strings.

A ripple spreading across,

reflecting a smile.

Barren trees bid goodbye,

a short farewell to an evening’s embrace.

Exploding into Spring!

Every evening, just after I would be done with Office hours, I would sit and watch this leafless tree get filled up, one at a time, by birds. Slowly, the whole tree would look full and complete, with the birds looking like leaves in the fading wintry light. In the complete quiet around, the slightest of noises scared them off. So, I had kept the window open, with the camera ready, luckily just a little before the birds arrived. It took a good 15 minutes or so for the tree to “blossom”, and despite the freezing breeze coming in through the window, I felt nice and warm. 

I had been watching these since a few days, and had begun to have a rough idea that these birds were on their way to some place, and used this tree on their way for a short pause. And then, suddenly, breaking the complete silence, was the sound of hundreds of wings flapping, as they all took off in a massive explosion. 

Birds exploding out into Spring

Whatever the thermometer said, at whatever time the sun set, no matter how windy and chilly it was, I was infused with fresh hope that Spring was around the corner somewhere when I saw this sight. I was lucky enough to see it a couple of times before trying to click it. Now, I can almost not wait for the winter to come, thaw away, and for Spring to make such a dramatic comeback. 

Isn’t there something remarkable about the time when seasons are changing and blending from one into another? Is there a lesson in it for me?