Creation

Just as I was slipping into my night wear after lazing around the lawns in my college, I received a call. It was 2 am and in an impulse I got convinced to hit the rhododendron roads towards the majestic Himalayas. I dumped an extra pair of clothing in my bold, peach colored hand bag that, ironically, seemed too timid for an imprudent road trip. Within no time we were leaving behind the crowded Delhi metropolitan to experience the frosty winter of the Himalayas for the very first time.
After, what felt like an aimless drive in the dark, the dawn finally brought with it a serene beauty of the hills. The light morning rays of the sun penetrated from between the unending rows of pines that soared into the sky. We drove along the twisting road caught up between yawning and laughing.
In the haste that accompanied our departure, we had managed to take the key to a friend’s summer house located in a small and compact hill station, Barog. Engulfed by the cold of the windy mountains, we reached our friend’s summer house. Cozy and calm, precisely parallel to the mountains at the opposite, the house was a perfect winter’s nest. It was time for dusk to take over as I sat on the miniature swing mesmerized by what I could only imagine to be a work of the gravitational forces that pulled the sun down, directly in front of my eyes, until it finally shrouded behind the mountains, radiating light even after its retreat.
The long tiring drive along the winding roads put us under covers of the warm blankets pretty early. With wine glasses half-filled on our bed tables, we awoke with the greeting of the morning sun through the light curtains of the bedroom. Our empty stomach took us to a tiny Himalayan breakfast shop. The owner was more of a host than a businessman. As we ate, what the owner called “an English breakfast”, he sat down with us giving us an oral tour of the many hill stations that comprised Himachal Pradesh. Before leaving, the owner, in a very moving gesture, gave us tissue papers and a bottle of water for our trip along the Himalayas, which sometimes, according to him, could become sickening.
We finally reached the snow-clad Kufri. After playing in the snow, we went to a bar and engaged in the most heart-warming conversation with the locals. In between the chat, l got a glimpse of the real Himachal- a heart-stirring space of very secure people who were not only happy to be where they were, but also innocently aroused envy in you, for you did not belong there.