Tag: travel

Once in a lifetime

Teesta lake.JPG
Teesta lake, runs between Sikkim and West Bengal.

Last week, I took a break from my routine and went on a trip to the eastern part of India.

It was the state of Sikkim, famous for turban-clad gentlemen and multicoloured bead chains. With a budget I wouldn’t have spent if it hadn’t been an office team-trip.

Nevertheless, even though I was surrounded by my colleagues and their families, I still revelled every minute.

I tried river rafting, an experience I wasn’t so keen on during discussion, but cherish now. But what’s weird is that I didn’t realise how thrilled I was while in the raft. Sure, the ice-cold water splashing over my head, chilling every nerve of my body was fun — and even a little shaky. I laughed harder than I had in a long time, and I knew that. I smiled and waved at the camera, despite my camera-shyness. For the first time in my life, I became someone I didn’t know I already am.

That was the best part of the whole three kilometres on the raft: I was someone else altogether – in such a beautiful way. The entire 30 to 45 minutes were candid moments I’d never forget.

All this, I realised only when I saw the video of myself, being myself. I rafted not only on the lake that bridged two great Indian states (West Bengal and Sikkim), but also through my consciousness to self-realisation.

From 33˚C to -6˚C

It was the best day of my life. It was the day I stood at the base of a near-frozen lake, with the cold piercing through every nerve of my body.

It was still the best day of my life.

Having lived all my life in a 30-above temperature, the sudden shock of falling ice and heat was more than just a life-altering experience.

It was the day I felt proud of myself: I had made it without falling ill. You’d think it’s easy climbing a tiny hill of about 300 meters — so did I — but it was far from easy. Despite a pair of normal socks, a pair of woollen ones, another pair of thermal socks, and rubber boots, I could barely feel my feet. My woollen gloves and the rented rubber ones didn’t stop my hands from going numb.

And we had a half hour to climb uphill and come back down before we ran out of oxygen. It was a battle against time and nature’s most freakishly beautiful phenomenon.

I don’t exaggerate.

When ice shards sting into flesh that’s only accustomed to heat, you’ll know what you’re made of.

And I realised I am made of stern stuff. I don’t just survive, I enjoy. And that revelation means more to me than anything else.

And that’s why it was the best day of my life.

Wonder what the hell I’m talking about? Details and photos coming soon.

The wait of a lifetime

She paced up and down the platform. She looked up at the wooden clock, tick-tocking at the most gruelling speed. She looked down at her feet, at her favourite shoes. It always helped her get through the queue at the hostel.

She turned back to see as far as she could. Still no train. According to the “Voice,” the tain should arrive any moment. And that was fifteen minutes ago.

She threw her arms up in exasperation and went back to sit on the bench. She took a book out from her bag, opened it, and stared at the fine print without taking in a word. A friend had demanded she read the book, and she’d been meaning to. Only, she hadn’t been able to get through the first page.

Now, however, she had to read it. A 12 hour journey with an iPod full of songs and no other books, she was ready to get this journey over with.

She still stared at the first line.

“It was the best of times.”

‘As if!’ She wondered to herself tearing her eyes away from the page, and turning to where her mind wandered: the winding track. Straining her ears for the faintest of whistling, she longed for the train that would take her home.

None came.