The Old Woman!

I thought waiting and watching was better than interfering.

The belief that your good deeds would back you up was far stronger than the urge to protect you.

Your happiness was important but not as much as your dignity.

You were of a different breed, I knew this right from your first cry.

That the stars and the moon were your companions was a comfort.

That the universe was watching over you was a solace.

But all this turned into carelessness slowly seeping into the never ending abyss of ungratefulness.

I lost you to the mysteries of nature while getting caught up in the ways of the world.

The thought of seeking you crossed my mind but it disappeared as quick as it had appeared.

I knew I had lost a rare gift but I failed to understand the rarity of it.

Today when I look back, I know that the right choices were always there.

For me to acknowledge, accept and instill in my life.

But I chose to go blind with desire, greed and selfishness.

After eons of stagnancy, now I know that I was at fault.

And today I choose to be your mother again.

To guide, protect and love you like you always deserved.

To marvel in your wonder and learn to be strong like you expected me to be.

I cannot be what I could have been anymore but I can be better than what I was.

So next time you look up at the sky, know that I am watching you.

When you see a bird chirping around, know that I sing for you.

When you feel the breeze nudge you, that I am there to hug you.

And when you are lonely, just breathe.

Every breath deeper than before till you feel me flowing through you again.

Stories are meant to be lived. Not always told.

Chameli the movie stuck a strange chord in my heart today. I wonder why I like such movies. Weird stories that are built on emotions that are way beyond humane. How many such stories have I lived myself?

A walk down a mountain towards a lonely beach with nothing but the setting sun watching over me, a night under the starlit sky, a day amid a frenzied atmosphere. Promises made, promises kept. Every such story was short yet amazing. Not that I wanted any of them to be longer. All of them were  just about perfect.

This movie reminded me of a time when I loved and was loved back. When I was on the streets with a stranger. Both of us stranded and lonely. With no other company and a whole night ahead. So we decided to keep each other's company. There were stories to be told and listened to. And we did. We spoke a lot about everything except each other's lives. Between words our silence kept us company. The mysterious smell of the night beckoned us to go on and speak our hearts out till the first ray of light hit the horizon.

This was the night when there was no romance but love. A love that connects us with the universe. A love that is not bound by the physical and emotional realms. A love that flows freely in the light of understanding. A love that is born out of words and culminates into silence. This was the love we lived for a night. We knew ,come dawn, we will have to return to each other's lives. But tonight was a gift. One where the choice to be anything was ours. Lovers, friends or any other relationship with a name. But we chose to be each other's nameless companions.

Companions who enriched each other's souls and parted ways never to meet again.

On itchy feet and derailed lungs!

Breathtaking.

For any travel junkie, this word is a cliché but one which never fails to pop up when they are out there somewhere, lost yet ridiculously happy.  So has been the case with me but only after the trip took my breath away literally.

I was an asthma patient as a child and the disease left its traces in the name of wheezing in the adult me. I was this nerd for whom the word ‘travel’ existed only in books till a college friend dragged me for a monsoon trek close by.  As expected, the first 45 minutes up the mountain were the worst moments of my life.  I got a wheezing attack and I was gasping for my breath. But luckily, I was with a group of complete strangers who did not know me and nor did they know that the breathlessness was a condition.

One of them suggested that I keep my mouth shut no matter what and try to breathe with my nose. The other asked me to bear the uneasiness for the next 40 minutes and keep climbing without waiting for anyone. Even today after 7 years, I do not know why I followed those suggestions so meticulously. But I am grateful that I did because after the said 40 minutes of continuous climbing, when I looked back at the darkish white clouds looming just a few steps beside me, I gasped. That was the first ever wondrous moment of my life. I was alone staring at the scenery ahead with my lungs hogging on the fresh air.

From that moment on I got into trekking like it was nobody’s business. Happily lived under the blanket of illusion that I crave only for the mountains and nothing else. That’s when the next attack of the ‘breathtaking’ moment happened. This time on an all girls trip to Darjeeling & Gangtok in December 2012. I had never been up north of India untill then. So I had no clue about the extreme low temperatures especially during winters.

The cold had started affecting me right from the moment we entered Darjeeling. The breathlessness only got worse in late evenings. But there is no joy greater than exploring a new place on our own. We ticked off all the places we wanted to see in Darjeeling and Gangtok with only Nathu La pass, the star of our trip to be explored on the last day of our trip.

Now, the journey towards Nathu La was a real challenge. Bad roads and the quick elevation from 5000ft to 14000ft in 3 hours is a bad idea. My condition had worsened so much so that my shameless friends had to check if I was alive by moving their fingers below my nose.  When we reached Nathu La, the interaction with the guy at the canteen to that grueling climb of only 90 steps to the border was all it took me to realize that I am not just cut out for the mountains but outdoors in general.

The guy at the canteen was an army man. I was so pissed at falling sick at such a beautiful place that the first thing I asked this guy was, ‘aapko kyun nahi hota ye sab jo mujhe ho raha hai?’ He just laughed and said,’Tum pehle chai piyo, mein batata hun.’  He explained that one needs to get acclimatized to stay comfortably at such high altitudes and that feeling giddy and going breathless is normal. Then he noticed the ‘wheeeez’ sound of my breathing and said, ’tum yahan se apne aap akele hi baki ki sidhiyaan chado.Bas apne aap pe bharosa rakho aur nazaaron ko dekho, aur yaad rakho ki tumhe kuch nahi hone wala hai. Yahan tak aa gayi ho toh aur thodi durr sahi. Wapas aate waqt yaha phir hote hue jana.’

I believed him. I started climbing one step at a time. No amount of trekking had prepared me for this. It was my lungs I was struggling against and not my heart.  At the border we took pictures, laughed at the chinki soldiers, spoke to the other army officials. While descending, I started ahead of my friends slowly so that they don’t have to wait for me. I went to that army guy again and thanked him for the encouragement. On this, all he said was, ‘Bas chaah honi chahiye, kahin bhi jaa sakogi.’

I did not realise the importance of that statement then but after that trip, all my treks and trips have happened just because of that intention. I have worked on my wheezing just so I could take in more on my subsequent trips. Madhya Pradesh, Delhi, Kullu, Manali, Sarpass, Konkan (the entire stretch in 4 days) and around 52 treks in Maharashtra with not a hint of unease and still counting.

To stretch the so called short story a little longer, for me more than ticking the places off my bucket list, vagabonding is more about seeking wisdom and finding it in some of the most unexpected places. It’s about growing to be one with nature and staying there for a very long time to come.