Once you go to the Himalayas, it’s hard to get its memories out of your mind. Not just the natural beauty. Or the thrill and peace of breaking away from the world, and stepping into another world. But also for the amazing people you meet. I too have one such distinct memory...
During August 2011, we drove from Delhi to Leh: battling flash floods, day long jams on Rohtang Pass, and dizzying passes. We woke up to a snowy morning on our 3rd day. After a quick breakfast at a makeshift dhaba on the roadside, we quickly huddled in the van before the warmth that chai bought disappeared. I sat on the back side of the car and the owner of the dhaba, who had come to bid us off, volunteered to close our gate. Just before closing the door, he lingered and said “good luck” in his half toothed smile. Till today, I can close my eyes and still see the vivid reflection of him waving us off.
Just after he closed the gate, I told my friend, “do you remember that English poem by Gabriel Okara where a man tells his son how he see so many people smiling but feels like it’s all fake”. She did. That old man smile was complete opposite of that – happy, peaceful, buoyant, serene ... a smile whose purity can be compared to the pure glacier melted water flowing by the road side ...
I know sometimes as humans, we single out memories that might not have been as grand as they look in our heads. But those memories are culmination of our overall experience, as in my cases, perhaps as if the warmth in the personality of all the pahari people I came across merged in that one old smiling man. To me, he stands for the genuineness of human emotion. Of hedonism. He stands as a reference point in my mind against which I can compare myself, and think about the gift that life is ...
As much as I like to put a picture of that man and let that say the rest, I feel words describes that memory more truthfully than a picture! Here’s however, the view by the road.
During August 2011, we drove from Delhi to Leh: battling flash floods, day long jams on Rohtang Pass, and dizzying passes. We woke up to a snowy morning on our 3rd day. After a quick breakfast at a makeshift dhaba on the roadside, we quickly huddled in the van before the warmth that chai bought disappeared. I sat on the back side of the car and the owner of the dhaba, who had come to bid us off, volunteered to close our gate. Just before closing the door, he lingered and said “good luck” in his half toothed smile. Till today, I can close my eyes and still see the vivid reflection of him waving us off.
I know sometimes as humans, we single out memories that might not have been as grand as they look in our heads. But those memories are culmination of our overall experience, as in my cases, perhaps as if the warmth in the personality of all the pahari people I came across merged in that one old smiling man. To me, he stands for the genuineness of human emotion. Of hedonism. He stands as a reference point in my mind against which I can compare myself, and think about the gift that life is ...
As much as I like to put a picture of that man and let that say the rest, I feel words describes that memory more truthfully than a picture! Here’s however, the view by the road.
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