Two were walking down the street. Festivity was on the way, men and children with their mothers rejoiced among the adverse conscience. Every time those two   could find the happiness, some standards piled up on their hearts. It was a bizzare night, darkened one in between the pearcing brightness. For them it was a walk of disgrace in the other eyes, but a spark was evident , so simple but powerful. Every stone they were turning, rolled their fear into dungeon, in that turning there was smile only with a cluster of hope. People say when men love they can not think anymore different than loving, which they never  compromised.  The more they walked, everything got lonely, but it was a treat they were about to get from nature, what on earth is more blissful than a night with love to love under the thousand galaxies. Those festively arrangements never surpassed their coy and desire. Silence was never bigger than their exposure of eyes, which seemed to be travelled an ocean before and were waiting to dive again. That Street got more narrowed, as humans tend to be at times when the reverse is needed. That Street had given them  the time to evoke as they wanted. But time can be all and even can be nothing at all. As it passed , sky got wider and enough to get inspired through the star light, the drops of love was dripping down the streets , melting the stars. There they got more strength and night began to grow bigger and wiser. Other activities were getting stopped, because they did not want to be the night spinner, they wanted to confine that in a room full of darkness and hopelessness where families of social norms live. The abonden outer was never small and heartless for those two men, city at night they thought to be strange but that strangeness was way more lovely than any strange veil they put everyday. It was all they had for that moment which was a life itself in it. The colours changed with the moments of sheer splendid where they found themselves. The faded festive prisms belonged nothing but behaved as an orphan who didn’t live but had days of unsolved mysteries, alike the fear of those unwinged doves. That moment didn’t lie but chose to conceal the eyes of unmatched people, who never measured them in that same cup, it might had been the most difficult part of life. At a glance they saw a girl walking down the path, life might have took her there where she was in her own self. These words were not mouthed but they just saw her eyes wide open in chaos of opinion, and all came forth. She too passed that Lane of selfishness and it’s not quite wrong always. Now waves have gone by but the remains of giving stood still there like a pillar of strength and love. They didn’t know the name of that path and they didn’t intend too. Beauty was there forever but for those who sought only realized.  They left that part of them there where they lived only. 

This journey has poured me into water but it never made me wet because I was not intended rather I owned the Nature. I tell you , how I made possible a dropped plan into existence. Mountains have a magnet, I am sure everybody knows about that and I am a victim of that force everytime in a positive sense though. Dropping off my heritage walk, I preferred to continue the trail to my mother whom I belong and where I should be.



This trail has been the most bumpiest of all, you guys will know later surely, but it was it which I wanted to have in unexpected senses. These have thrilled me everytime and it will till my last wind. I did a cross check of my predrafted plan, and commissioned it on my own heart. Travelling is not about only seeing new places  but to have an impact to re discover ourselves into another being, to feel the change every moment when I am in trans.

The idea emerged when I was in Varanasi which is another by flow of Ganges, and I headed towards the edge Haridwar where Ganges meets the grasses of plain and curses. This city has its own typical aura where I have always been disillusioned and never had that clarity of myself there, do not know may be I have a pre-eminent past there. This query never did complete because it always put me on time lapse, so it can hide itself.



Crossing the confluence of plain and hill, I moved myself forcefully for Govindghat , a pilgrim. On this long 300 Km trail on bus and several transports so many varsities have changed, so much hardships have been seen, the small hamlets of Kumaon and the rugged hostilities of Garhwal.  So many Prayags that if I can put those on a scape, confluences can flood the world with its richness of beauty and human relationships.



In that drizzle and light shower,  at first I go beyond Devprayag, where Alaknanda , the daughter meets the Bhagirathi , and creates the mighty Ganges. After crossing , I felt that I have moved against time which never existed though.



Devprayag pulls the quantum of Rudraprayag , where Alaknanda meets Mandakini. The name has its significance but to me it was that river which has given its all but I never cared for it . Passing the anger of Rudraprayag , I confronted Nandaprayag where Alkananda meets Nandakini a princess. Meandering through Chamoli , a Garhwali heartland, another Prayag tells its story , the Karnprayag , where Alaknanda meets Pindar, a rough stream.

On this pilgrim route I ended unto Govindghat, a town of cross believe and peace where Alaknanda gets a companion Lakshman Ganga. Going by these blessings have never been easy and no criteria is valid , only the intention of remembering the true self. Commencement will come now.
Journey continues .......

As I believe. walk in Nature is a walk of peace. Everyone must make a time to dwell among their fears, complexes and silent happiness by travelling in the dome but living on the edge itself. When I entered this happening town where cross culture is a fashion but language was a monopoly, a peculiar identity crisis gulped me in unconscious moment, Suddenly , it was realised that the commencement has been going well and I am adapting quite greatly. 

Always winter has come to me as a giver, last winter too, in the morning when I was getting suffocated in Puri, a eastern coastal pilgrim town, I took the refuge to visit an old diamond of Indian architectural panorama along the eastern reigns. It was a familiar road to every by passer and even a hot spot too. The more people enters, the derivation gets more diverse. Some were daily dwellers and some are seasoned travellers.

From Puri bus stand taking a tour bus, I was told primarily that in the late morning when the sun would glorify himself upon its temple I would be among the thousands to witness the beauty, but the thing which was spinning in my mind was to see that untold, unravelled sand, Chandrabhaga.

Taking the east coast road towards the eastern end of Orissa, I could see some reserve forests along the sea line even the famous barren olive turtle beach. If I was trekking that silence I would venture into the woods and smell those leaves.

Suddenly my eyes were resting upon the mild woods and with me, sun was also playing there hide and seek, Having been tasted the beams, I got down from bus there at a stop ans went on to a neverland of unarmed nature where the waves were chasing the sands, Even stepping onto the sands was an adventurously crafted jungle way. Where trees make space for humans to pave their feet, and sands bring the heated carpet , then the final lap is to go to the pleasantry of sea. Its colour was contrasting to the blazing sun and yet restable too.

Unheard winds were calling me to fly with them to those mid sea fishermen, I was not brave enough to do so but the inner eye was already there catching fishes. People say that once this land was visible from that great sun temple, Konark. I think our corrupt visions have killed every visionary of virgin places, I wish could be there in 60s too.

Over that gleaming horizon, some sailors were sharing their trade stories of culture and modernity, loss and happiness. I did empathize but envy more . At the end of all, I did collect sea shells with some kids of whom I was sibling of our mother nature. I could say the family united on the lonely beaches of Chandrabhaga. 

Mountains to lakes, humans never regretted to delve into the bed of nature, whether it can be the delightful snow clad peaks or the serene waters on earth. It was a privileged motion in the eastern coastal state of Orissa. As we all know its a state of diverse heritage of upper cast as well as the dalit art and culture. The handicrafts and sarees made by unprivileged are attractive to every citizen. Sometimes we don't pay enough but our humility must be enough to compensate everytime. 

                             
                                                          At Sandakphu

I started this series with so much enthusiasm but when it has to come to wrap up, every memory is wailing just like myself cry for an ice cream, no its not that much funny though but quite serious. Travelling is not at all a serious thing to me where I need to put my unprecedented efforts but it comes naturally like the sailor goes to ocean, astronauts go to space.


And here for my parents to whom hiking alone is quite a revolutionary idea which contradicts their social norms, but who cares, to me it is life , it is oxygen. Don;t think I am too bold , yah I am but when there was a riot of colours in the eastern sky of Sandakphu, I cried. Actually the poisonous land, Sandakphu was a solitary place which I seek always.

                                                                At Gurdum

At around 9 a.m. me and my guide by saying goodbye to the snow clad of Hiamalayas, began the trek for the last destination Srikhola. We entered in to the bamboo forest of Red Pandas and Bears, I hoped to get a glimpse but I think it was the nature's call that I need to come again for them, I would love to by the way. Those terrains took us to Gurdum, a small hilly village, where I ate my wonderful lunch in a very welcoming household. Another interesting thing was that I also ate a  red Rhododendron flower as dessert as my guide suggested. I need to say to all, only some are edible only and others are dangerous for our body. After an hour of descent , we reached a river village consisted of very few houses, Timburay. There was the most expressive melody of a river named Sri khola ( In Nepali 'Khola' means river ). As the road goes, we crossed a very known bridge over Sri river. Weather went cloudy and temperature did rise and we reached the destination Sepi, an organic village beautiful as any other famous hill stations in India. I wished that if I could spend a couple of days more there but time damned me. But I have promised myself to get that melody of Sri river I will visit again aand again.

                                                                    At Srikhola

My three day trek was completed, at the end I was not alone I was with every bit of nature around me. They just became of whole existence and I thank my guide and all my people of hills and valleys.

Day 1- Manebhanjan to Gairibas
Day 2- Gairibas to Sandakphu
Day 3- Sandakphu to Sepi

Journey never ends ....

On the second day of the hike, after waking up at that empty long dormitory of the jungle hut of Gairibas, I had to start by 8 a.m between the clarity of clouds, among the commotion of silence and most prominently the left parts in self centering things.

Going out with every bit of myself, crossing the jungle domain, I felt that I was leaving the Shivalik and entering to the Lesser Himalayas but what seemed was only the emotion non-motivated by mind. Me and my guide Gazen did look out for Red Pandas, I thought that I would be the only person to witness them but they did not try me, I suppose I am more intolerable creature. Even we waited at some typical spots but all went otherwise.


Crossing some terrains of vegetation in small scale and I was quite overwhelmed to see how they prevent land slide in some areas. On those long roads which did never become lonely with assistance of mother nature. Seeing some mixed breed of yak and cow, I was quite startled by their looks and attitude in a sense, my guide told me that these are for the better production of milk, I guess they know farming better than me, although it looked different. We hang the wind chimes which I am fascinated with, to break the estranged sound of emptiness, native people of that region do tie the bell to the cattle to identify but I think what I said earlier that is the sublime reason of all. After all we all do belong to this vast diversity and we are connected to the core.


The next little crowded entity was Kaiyakata, its much of a higher place than others, from here its a plane 4 km walk to Kalpokhri, where the famous lake is situated around which the poisonous herbs Aconitum has grown in a pretty large number. It was much of a windy weather, I met some old companion whom I did meet the previous day there.


Lunch was great in Kalpokhri, but my heart bells were ringing to start again, otherwise extra rest will kill my stamina any way. Now the Sandakphu ridge was peeping out to me. Later a bit, we sat at a place called Bikheybhanjan, which had two three houses with tea stall and a Buddhist shrine at a height, and only there was pine which dominated the entire existence. Dominance is a complicated issue for humans, we presume so many things without understanding, but natural dominance is rather like a dance of harmony where there is only goodness not any bad omen. As usual I reached the top in the late afternoon, when I got there, it was elsewhere, the tyrannical last steep walk was melted away and the pleasure and peace were left only.


To be continued . . .

After having cloud shocks in Meghma, we headed forward. Going through Tumling , a small Nepali village, all houses, hotels were crafted in rural manner which were mysterious but gave an awe to the wanderers. Some constructions were alarming but nothing to do, governments have approved them all. It was a bumpy place to me because suddenly I was in between some unwanted crowd, where I did loose myself after quite a time, though it was not a new circumstance, usually it stays in city with me everywhere.

Acquiring fogs, mists and that free breeze I learned to live in a new way among those u turns to Jaubari, a vibrant rural existence in Nepal. Every passing people must enlist their names in that Nepali police station, my guide was talking with that inspector in native dialect , it seemed like an unknown world which stays with contradiction, division but they know where they get united.

Again we did enter to India, a tiny village but equipped with all things Gairibas, it was quite a late in the afternoon, I had to search for my GTA accomodation, I was very excited of staying in that hut which was in the lap of the national forest. Everywhere you gaze,  you will see some new trees , atleast I haven't seen those. When I reached there, I set my backpack and off to see the jungle alleys which were so dark that thousand sun will be defeated to this beauty. Mists were mixing into it like some shadow plays with its existence and remains so unattainable. I got some fellow travelers who were coming by Land Rovers which are now trendy according to my own census of visitors. if somebody asks which question have you faced so far most, I would say the question would be of me being a lone traveler, heeee isn't it funny, by the end of of everything we all are loners, contemplating is the very private and solo matter, humans never include anybody.

That night was very haunting, and it will be remembered as one of the best of my life. I was fortunate to know the those mysterious old tales by the bonfire from cooks and my guide. After just having dinner when I came out to that open vastness of jungle, I saw constellations so clear that I thought those were painted by myself, and this merger of black with moon beams and starry skies have been my first ever experience. I was living and dying together. Every word I presume is less to describe then nature.

To be continued ..........

Whenever I looked back to those winded paths I saw some hardships but smiles too , its much like the way we cross every day on every task, I got some really humble people , certainly I am not exaggerating and not generalising.

After mounted up to Chitrey , we came to that small village of Nepal , named Meghma. Here is another story of it, my guide told me that some years ago one Bengali engineer came to this place quite often and he was seasoned to this very place. Whenever he came he only saw the clouds everytime here, that's why after that precision this village got the name Meghma or the Mother of Clouds. And when I entered here I felt like swimming among them. Too much non transparent every bit of it was , like somebody created this maze to offer peace to the fellow walkers. Rather than the noodle soup , the clouds filled my appetite quite well.

On this way I spotted a Himalayan Griffon, but it was my fault that Nature gave me chances but I could not capture that but it was captured by my these very eyes of heart. And here comes that famous gateway of the national park in Tumling , where every one definitely clicks pictures, I did that too but did not understand why do they do that. I may not see that , they could. My schedule was tight and for that I did not climb to Tonglu the third highest point of West Bengal after Sandakphu and Phalut. I never regretted it because I knew I already had enough and now living on extra perks.

Quite a way, the first morning in Manebhanjan , the border town of India and Nepal, where interestingly if someone's house is in Nepal but his owned land must be in India , was a worth roaming. Though I had rushed to start my first walk in the Singalila National Park, I got some time to scribble among that harmonious shrine where the Hindu temple is embedded with Buddha imagery, I mean literally it does not happen in big cities generally because the city size does not matter but what does matter is the heart and soul. I must not deviate certainly . People of this town largely depend up on the trekkers business and around it. Gazen , my guide, gave me some crucial information which supported my inference of the economic structure. Actually the shops are not general shops but bouquets for travelers, I saw so many faces even with bursting expectations that their life is not much of an independent but dependable to the roamers.

Where was I, oh ya remember , parental gravitational force !!!
For now , I will pull out some extract of my diary of that windy night in Sandakphu. I wasn't alone in that hut , but systematically my mind was on that verge that every household discussion of a couple was escaping naturally , even I was confronted with some stupidity, I think they have their own explanations though .

"For now , I am sitting by a window pane; the chilly , pierced wind is acting through my hand, for us like lowlanders its very dangerously thrilling situation but I am feeling quite lucky to have these roaring gusty sounds penetrating the ears like uv waves . Taking up this lonely exploration I thought some revelations would cross me, but I have to admit that I learned
patience more and it helps me to dwell on these wind cries. Today when I was on my last lap of climbing up to Sandakphu , I was almost ready to give up. It was self inspiration obviously which came through worshipping the nature. To be honest I wanted to be lonely here, when I have got it , I wish for differences , don't know why. The loners do not sit on a roof top or on a mountain, its the crowd in the name of connection make people lonely within the souls of their own kind. When I see these trees, far away snow pinnacles my rational goes some where deep down the belly , even those distant monasteries of Chitrey, Meghma were wailing like a universal sound goes beyond our mundane auditory mechanism.
Unknown places give me feeling of vague relativity but when I entered in to the Singalila National Park , I knew its the nature's dome where everyone is known to every being. "

Next day at 4.30 am I woke up and saw some magical spell in the sky , when the first sun ray of the day came up to the Kangchenjunga I felt like I have enough lived , and my existence was bursting out of my cage.  Then only one thing was on my mind....  I will share that here...
                                         
                                          There is much comfort in high hills,
                                           and a great easing of the heart .
                                                   We look upon them.
                                         and our nature fills with loftier images
                                                   from their life apart .
                                         They set our feet on curves of freedom
                                         bent to snap the circles of our discomfort
                                                   Mountains are mood
                                         of large rhythm and line
                                         moving between the eternal mode and mine
                                                   Moments of thought
                                         of which I too am part
                                         I lose in them my instant of brief ills
                                        There is a great easing of the heart
                                         and cumulance of comfort on high hills .

              

It was a random plan to move out to the heart of mountains for a week, taking a break from 
pollution and those stagnant coinages. This urge has ever been subjective , this rhetoric has shaken me by core. Being in a so called society every time its about getting aware of things and reacting to your conscience.I can not expect people to understand what I have stood for myself and how have I carried those instincts in this unbalanced being.