The Nowhere Land
INDIA | Tuesday, 26 May 2015 | Views [107] | Scholarship Entry
A trusted travel companion now sought my leave. Worn-out and tired from all the adventures we had plunged into; my lime green flip-flops appeared unmistakably ready to call it a day. For all the shenanigans we had together pulled off and all the memories they had helped me create, an honorable discharge was in order. Thus it was that on a late Sunday morning, deep in the Himalayan country-side along the quiet hamlets of Sidhbari and Sokni da Kot, I took them out for a final walk. We ambled along the winding roads quite amicably, taking in the brilliant summer sunshine, while absorbing the disarming beauty of the mountains.
All of a sudden as we turned a corner, I found my breath stolen without prior warning. A little distance ahead in the valley below, a pristine sight rested humbly. It was a simple clearing on the edge of a forest. Bursting forth from the woods was a narrow stream that cut across the grassland, following a most undisciplined path. Its sudden appearance and wild trajectory piqued still a heightened sense of awe and wonder that the Himalayas enable among those who wander. The call of the valley had to be attended to. So we set off, lime green flip-flops and I, holding on to each other. Only a little further ahead a gentle trail into the valley opened up. We followed its meandering lead and a twenty minute hike later found ourselves delivered to a mystical 'nowhere'.
Unbeknownst to GPS radars and travel itineraries of holiday packages a small space of magnificent beauty thrives here. The stream, unassuming and eternal, mischievously snakes through the grass for about a stretch of 500 meters before turning a corner and disappearing into the vast unknown. Sunlight glistens in its fresh, clear water. Its edges are spruced by bright yellow wild flowers that stand tall. Into the opposite direction, the woods unfold infinitely. Either side of the grassland is guarded by cliffs that look down from concrete roads cut into the sagacious mountains. Every now and then, the distant rumble of the exhausted engines of local buses can be discerned. The only other sounds to be heard are the gentle rustle of grass and leaves and of the placid flow of the water.
An ode of a journey met fulfillment in this nowhere land. In silent elation I sat down by the edge of the stream and immersed my feet into the water. Lime green flip-flops beamed from the cool water. Thus, we savored our final journey together, for an hour or two, or perhaps even an eternity.
Tags: 2015 Writing Scholarship
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