A few days up in the hills…
One of the few privileges of getting married to a man from the hills who loves long drives just like you.
A temple visit where we attended six weddings including that of a district magistrate. Absolutely loved the simple village weddings unlike the lavish city weddings whose sole purpose is to show off wealth.
Nothing against those who enjoy celebrating it this way, but I don’t find joy or meaning in wasting money on clothes, accessories or decoration. I would rather love to spend it on feeding the thirsty and hungry souls or on travelling to unknown destinations that help me learn more as a person.
We started visiting Ghorakhal temple ever since our first trip as man and wife to Nainital when the cab driver took us around the place and finally requested us to visit this temple which he believed had great powers. I visit this temple at least once a year. Ringing the countless bells of wishes which have innumerable untold stories in them brings in clarity of thought and peace of mind.
We make it a point to rush to the hills whenever possible because the chaotic city life is dreadful. The noise, the traffic, the dust and smog, the rat race…it’s all so traumatic most of the time.
My one big dream is to build a tiny nest somewhere up in the hills and spend the rest of our lives waking up to the melodious birdsong, walking hand in hand soaking in the beauty of the mountains and the people.
It’s a myth that money can buy you everything. Money can only help provide for your needs. For inner peace and happinness, one must travel, engage and reflect. To the man who lived inside this hut, it may mean nothing. But to someone like me who spends thousands to enjoy the beauty of his surroundings, he seems like the richest man in the world. That’s why they say, to each his/her own.
In villages, where people live closer to nature, life is simple yet fulfilling. I’m sure they have their own challenges. But there’s no rush yet everything is so well-disciplined.
Running away from the city, we ran up to a warm and cozy little place named Ramgarh, 350 kilometers from Delhi and just 35 kilometers from Bhimtal.
Somwhere close to Mukteshwar. Some of the roads make you feel that there’s nothing ahead. That it’s the end of the road. The sharp twists and turns of the roads on the hills are scary yet beautiful.
Bulbuls, plum-headed parakeets, munia, thrushes, sparrows, swallows, flycatchers, treepies and many more singing the morning raga. Walking down to the market place from the KMVN (Kumaon Mandal Vikas Nigam) Tourist Rest House with monkeys jumping all around.
And the flowers! Such deep, dark, bright hues of all colours possible and the most challenging geometric patterns you get to see ever.
The early morning chai at Pandeyji’s tea stall with the snow-capped Himalayas reflecting the sun rays is just the best feeling ever.
And then with the new found energy and warm hands you point and shoot the Great Indian Himalayas that peep from behind the hills. Breathtaking this view was.
Trust me, no camera has the ability to capture what the human eye, heart and mind capture together. Goosebumps it gives me when I think of the supreme power that has engineered this marvel that is our body and everything outside of it.
No man-made wonder has the magnificence or mastery of Mother Nature’s creativity. Her palette has a magical combination of various hues that no artist can ever capture on canvas or camera.
It’s a different painting from every angle. A different landscape. Pictures do speak a thousand words but what the naked eye captures speaks countless words and emotions, all at once.
Have you ever had Maggi on the hills? We missed it this time. But that Maggi cooked in the Himalayan waters tastes heavenly. I wish I could go back just for having that one bowl of Maggi sitting on the roadside and soaking in all the beauty around.
Neverthless, we managed Momos and Thukpa. Fun! Absolute fun.