Every Place Is A Story

McLeod Ganj a small town in Dharamshala, Himachal Pradesh. A busy yet not so busy town, that Tibetans in exile call their home. It was here that I paused and realized that every place is a story.

I was heading back to my vehicle from the Tsug la Khang (Dalai Lama’s Temple) reminiscing about my visit, feeling paradoxical.
The moment I entered this crowded town, it felt like home. I kept bumping into the same group of people and as the day passed the feeling kept growing and yet I didn’t want to stay.

Along the way to the monastery, the melange of smells wafting from traditional Tibetan, Italian, Lebanese cafes and carts selling steamed momos were teasing my senses. There was this one quirky Tibetan cafe that had Lizards, Snakes and Dragons painted at the entrance.

The monastery houses the Dalai Lama and yet this place bears no air of importance. It was crowded yet serene. The gigantic idol of Buddha in meditation will calm even the most restless minds. The offerings were unique and consisted of cookies and biscuits. I was wandering in the shrine and enjoying the sun set, when the silence around was shattered by a commotion. Apparently monks were debating. The student ended his question with a clap and the teacher was patiently answering. They were so into it that it almost seemed like a fight. According to a local, Buddhism and Philosophy are discussed in this manner every Thursdays. I left the shrine feeling calm and puzzled.

Hang gliding across Himalayas and have my Bat Man moment, 9 KM trek to Triund and explore the flora, visit the ancient Masroor Temple complex consisting of 15 monolithic temples built in 8th century having an unfinished stairway to heaven, my list kept growing
I was walking back when I heard this beautiful traditional music playing in a store and time froze. Suddenly my nostalgia and plans didn’t matter. I wanted to live in the ‘NOW’. I wanted to savor every passing second and walk with time.

I looked around and it was as if a story was playing out in front of me. The people, the buildings, the street, everything was a part of it. The locals both old in traditional attire and youngsters with ‘Free Tibet’ tees conveyed the same message. The longing is so strong that even visitors can feel it. People made a home here only to return home.

I didn’t want to stay .I just wanted to keep moving and I also did not wonder about my next step.

McLeod Ganj is like a home for wanderer's. You want to stay only to leave.