Oh, dear mountains,
Do you remember me?
I am sure you don’t.
You see so many faces, some round, some oval, some wrinkled around the cheekbone. Mine is an ordinary one, little round, lifted cheeks, thin lips. Are you able to recall me now?
I miss you so much in these days of isolation. In these moments of uncertainty.
I wish I could see you from my balcony every time I am overwhelmed. You teach me how to stay calm despite the upheavals. You have endured so much in geographical deformation. Nobody will be able to tell the pain you have gone through. All they see is your beauty, your crests, and troughs. I wish I could become like you.
You have stood there for centuries. Tall and strong.
Around you, I can feel my worries evaporate, as if my fears are like pebbles on your foot. Small and meaningless.
I leave my worries and start meditating on your greatness. The deodars with their greenery offer the best point to focus on. The only time I have meditated on something visually has been your peaks, valleys, and the winter line
I want to wake up and worship your snow-capped peaks. I still have the taste of the feeling when I ran across streets in Auli to see you. I was so smitten at that moment that I wanted time to stop there. I have not experienced such tranquillity in a long time.
The best part has been the strolls. Walking on endless paths, leading to nowhere. I love discovering your sanctuaries where there are lesser humans. I want your company to help me answer essential questions in life. Remember how you helped me mold my identity in Mussorie?
Walking on the aisles of bookstores, I have thought of you. Essential Rumi or Forty rules of love, I have bought these books so that I can read them while basking in your lap. This is the reason why I buy Ruskin Bond so much. He writes about you, intertwines your magic in his stories. He makes me feel close to you. Every time there is a reading slump, I search for Ruskin Bond and his books to comfort me.
I keep searching for you in books, videos, and podcasts. I instantly subscribe to YouTube channels living a journey with you. I remember being very anxious last year in September. And then I stumbled on a podcast of a traveler in the valley of flowers. It kept me going for days. I relived the sequence as if I am there, filling my senses with the aroma of flowers.
I sometimes think that we entangle life. We do not know how to wake up with the sun, sleep with the moon. But you do. The sight of Nanda Devi at the dawn, when your red rays were adoring her head like a vermillion is an imprint on my memory. You become lush green in monsoon and snow-capped in winters. We, mortals, can’t even change our diets as per season. Help us, help us simplify!
I dream of leaving everything and settling in a small hut, staying close to you. I envy people that have learned their alphabet and numbers with you. I find them so grounded and humble. Is it you? You are a strict teacher, but you make the best students. Kind, loving, and caring.
If we meet again after months, will I adore you equally? No, I will not. I will love you even more. I will bow down in tears, asking for your blessings to support me. Help me sail through. I wish to feel the breeze run through my hair and my eyes fixated on you while I repeat to myself, “This too shall pass!”
Read more: Land of dreams, queen of hills: Mussorie