When I looked outside the window today, I realised how much I missed looking at ice-covered mountains instead of old, dead buildings. I don’t dwell much in the past. But the lingering scent of complete freedom in the middle of nowhere from a little more than week ago still hits my heart. Disconnected from people, from cities, from materialism … I’m scared nothing will come close to this feeling again.
I remember going to Rohtang Pass some years back. Our car got stuck in the snow and I couldn’t help but think to myself how wonderful it felt. One situation where I could let go and just wait. Otherwise, I am slave to my brain; if I am stuck somewhere, I cannot stop myself from thinking of numerous ways the situation could be dealt with. But that was one instance in life where I knew all I could do was sit and wait. And that feeling was so liberating that it became one of the best moments in my life.
How beautiful it must be, living at a place surrounded by these scenic but intimidating mountains? To look at such brilliantly carved masterpieces and to see the years that went into making every nook and cranny, every streak and stripe, the long winding roads and the blanket of ice on top. Every element of nature, from wind to dust to rocks to water helped create the magnificent beast that we were blessed enough to witness. How tiny are we compared to them, how irrelevant, how insignificant …
I don’t have a specific faith. But how can one see something as aesthetic and not believe in a higher power somewhere that set into motion the recipe that eventually churned up this:
Not only were there less people there, they were way nicer than the ones I come across here. For a little time in my life I didn’t find people annoying. I didn’t find myself going out of my way to avoid human contact of any kind. I was like a normal person, wow.
I don’t know what brought out this temporary change in me, all I know is that I am a mountain person, through and through x