I’m still hungover from my not-so-recent (anymore) trip to Sikkim. And it’s not so surprising that this week’s prompt reminded me the earthly curves I saw from above.
Tag: Photography
Air
We don’t often realise, but the world isn’t as corrupt as we think it is. Sure, there’s a lot of cheap politicians, crappy streets, smelly alleys, unclean water, and even contaminated minds.
But there’s also beauty. There’s clean and detoxing air. We just have to look in the right places for purity. Like the sky through an aeroplane window.
Alive
I’m in the mood to reminisce. About when I went so high, I was both ecstatic and sober.
The mountains, I mean.
There’s something about the hills, about the way they go round and round, the winding roads twisting and turning. The way you traverse through rocks and slides, staring at nothing but an expanse of brownish mass that’s so plain, yet so attractive.
Who would look at a mountain and expect it to have been around for centuries, nurturing countless monkeys, squirrels, mushrooms, and buttercups?
From tiny dents that sliding rocks had created over the years and small shrubs peeking through large cracks. To even the bigger chasms that open up to disasters during the monsoons. Everything about a mountain is wondrous.
Who’d pause to wonder that such a life-giving creature could also be dangerous? If the earth makes one wrong move, the whole rocky magnificence will crash down upon us. And yet we pry at it, with scalpels and crossbars, and evil hearts looking to uproot the structure that feeds thousands of life forms.
As we ascended the Darjeeling hills, I looked down at the world of luscious greenery and turquoise waters glistening in the mild afternoon sun. The hills encase these small water bodies, protecting them from the evils of humanity. It was a sight I’d hold in my mind forever.
It wasn’t just the natural scenery, just the joy and thrill of going up a mountain, made my heart race, in a good way. As we elevated, my heart elated. And so did my hopes of going higher and higher. Robert M. Pirsig said, “Sometimes it’s a little better to travel than to arrive.” That’s how it was.
The hills are alive, calling in a reverberating voice you can’t ignore. And that’s why I’d never say no to the mountains.
Counting Years
I see myself falling in love with great wine. It’s extraordinary that no two wines are the same. I love the mystery that each bottle contains, there’s such mild taste difference that even a day or two means a great deal. I’m still a novice in the area, but even I know how much the wine’s age matters.
The Unwanted
Sometimes, we get so caught up in our own worlds that we miss the little things around us. Like in a flower show, all we see are well-watered flowers, settled in protective enclosures. But there are other stuff around that aren’t as noticeable. Like a broken twig, or a timid squirrel scurrying through dense feet.
It was quite the same when we went on a trip to Kodaikanal. We stayed in a hotel with bountiful linen, wooden windows, and sumptuous meals enough to make anyone drowsy. And there was also the most beautiful scenery around us. Flowers of all kinds, huddled in bunches, and pruned to perfection. But there were a few extras as well. Little petals peeking through the rocks, braving the gardener’s sharp shears.
They were the unwanted, the ones the world could do without. They were the spares.
