WanderLost

The sun beat down mercilessly upon me as I dragged my suitcase and backpack in a high-altitude desert known to the world as Ladakh, the northernmost tip of India. I had spent months planning this, but the low oxygen and lack of acclimatization had made my thoughts fuzzy. I was already wondering if I had made a mistake. Just when I thought I couldn't move anymore, I found myself facing a small wooden structure that was to be my home for the next few weeks. I had volunteered to teach at a remote village-school miles away from civilization and in the middle of, quite literally, nowhere. The road ended without any ceremony. An endless view of the mountains, the swirling waters of the mighty Indus river and the expanse of blue sky overhead was all I could see. The sound of silence was deafening. I nervously checked the map to assure myself. I took a few tentative steps ahead, and suddenly a group of young Ladakhi kids appeared out of nowhere. I told them I wanted to meet someone from the school administration, and before I could protest, my bags were picked up and I was jostled over to where the teachers and senior-students were enjoying their tea. Those from the plains were easily distinguishable from the locals thanks to their straight features and sun-burnt skin. They welcomed me warmly, even as more students came out to see the latest addition to their troop. Their shy, awkward smiles melted my heart and by the time I got my mug of tea, I was feeling quite comfortable. Twilight descended and after a brief tour of the premises including the chicken coop and the cow-shed, I my room. As I lay in bed that night, I contemplated the long journey I had undertaken from Delhi to get to where I was. I was apprehensive about what the next few days would bring. They brought, or rather did not bring, electricity, hot water, the usual Indian food and a reprieve from dust-storms. They did bring friendships to last a lifetime, smart and blossoming young minds extraordinarily sharp, adaptation to survive in extreme cold and the ability to bathe in ice-cold water on a gloomy day. On more occasion than one, I asked myself what was I doing there anyway? Sitting thousands of miles away from home in an inhospitable terrain teaching history and english to kids and monks! But I would look at the snow-covered mountains, the mighty river, the camaraderie building over bonfires and mostly, the students whose impressionable minds I could perhaps mould. And therein lay my answers.