I set out on a one-day trek to Triund, and guess what? I aborted the mission halfway, and suddenly remembered why I suck, at treks.
The UV rays of the sun beat down wildly, through the ozone layer, and bored into the skin on my face and arms. This cool weather is deceptive, making me forget to don a cap. 20 minutes into the trek I was alarmed by the sound of my own breathing, and on the trudge down, I thought my kneecaps would crack any moment.
But for every moment of agony, there were countless moments of ecstasy. The deodar trees were tall and strapping. The leaves on the trees were fresh mint green. Cakes of horse dung formed a trail all the way to the top of the mountain, while little streams found their way to the bottom. A bovine family of daddy, mommy and baby, munched on green, green grass, and pretty little purple and yellow flowers glistened in the sun.
We walked 14 km, and navigated a height of 5,300 m.
I told the guide Ashok — a wee 21-year old who attends tourism college and moonlights as a guide – to slow down so we could enjoy all the picturesque sites along the way. Baby Ashok was a quiet sort, but I drilled out a lot within those eight hours. He hails from Kangra and earns Rs 135 per day as a trekking guide. The one time he grew mildly verbose was when I inquired him about his religion. He said profoundly in Hindi,” A person’s religion is just for namesake. Being humane is a mark of a person’s true religion”. Touché!
We stopped for lunch at a lodge in the mountains where the view was breath taking, and my chewing on insipid fried rice and rubbery paranthas was interrupted by a male cow trying to hump a female, in vain. He seemed to have given up after the third attempt when an Alto cab honked them put of its way.
I returned to the hotel and sipped on hot chocolate, as it grew chillier. I could no longer see the valley on yonder from my windowsill; a curtain of mist hung right across. So, I stayed in my room and had the quirky, cynical, suicidal Esther Greenwood for company, the rest of the evening.
As I checked out of the hotel this morning a gaggle of Punjus invaded the hotel. They badgered the receptionist with questions about welcome drinks, and the like.
Oddly, one them, a guy whom I considered to be mildly attractive apologised to me for the din, and inquired about the hotel food. I gave him my review and headed out to Nick’s Italian Café.
I observed the international folks, and they seemed to comprise all sorts of oddballs, who were probably here for snorts ‘n’ giggles. The three garrulous women on the next table were talking so loudly I could not hear myself think.
So, I wandered far from the madding crowd and sat at the edge of the restaurant from where I could see the valley below. I realised then, that I was not here to socialise, shop or investigate all the local joints.
I was here for some unadulterated peace and quiet and to enjoy nature in its full bloom.
