Trek down the hill

On a February Saturday of 2013 the three musketeers (S,T and Me) started our impromptu journey from home to the hill. It was too sunny so I had to cover my face with the typical checkered Bengali towel (Gamchha as we call it). Both the guys wore comfortable shoes and were walking without much discomfort. Whereas I, on the other hand couldn’t even look straight or up, I continued to look down.

S: Do you know how  to identify if people are enjoying themselves on a trek?

Me: No. How do you identify them?

S: They’ll walk like you—looking at the ground and walk.

I was embarrassed but what the hell! I’ve never been on a trek like this before. It was my first time.

I did a very very big mistake of wearing my canvass shoes. I got blisters on my feet and could barely walk. Anyway after a walk of about 90 minutes we  reached an uninhabited farm house. The house was surrounded by jackfruit trees and  was totally abandoned. More than the jackfruit my focus was  on my burning and aching feet. I only wished to go back home and regretted ever  giving in to the idea of trekking. My visions were blurred and enough was enough! I removed my shoes, S got some banana leaves  and folded it, T took off his socks (which were torn ofcourse J ) and gave it to me. I put the banana leaves below my feet and wore the torn socks on top of it. S, with his fast as a lightning thoughtful brain designed  it and started tying  it with the strands of zapanhlo (a vine used as medicine  by the locals of Mizoram)  but had to replace it with plastics.

                             Voila! My feet got a pair of custom made shoes  J

We took a ‘jackfruit’ break  and started moving again. On the way we saw a stream and drank the fresh water and filled our bottles as well (Fresh water stream is one of the novelties Mizoram provides)

After about 3 hours of walk we finally reached the main road. Few houses were there closeby.My trek-mates wanted to intoxicate themselves with Duichuani – a locally made alcohol infamous to the Reang  community (Tuikuk, as the locals call them).

It was again time to move. We headed towards our spot—a bigger stream where we swim. We had to walk a bit on the main road. My fellow mates went ahead of me and I had to walk dragging my ‘Lady Gaga’s’ like shoe and walk. It was really sunny. As I was dragging myself to reach our sweet spot my students saw me and were shouting ‘Miss,Miss’. I was like,’Damn these kids. Why do they have to see me in this state when I look worse than a ghost wearing torn socks ’.

Cursing and grumbling we reached the stream  and  what happened afterwards was a bliss! After  bearing the scorching heat the water then soothe my burning skin and brought a calmness all over me. I was at peace. The blisters,the heat, all forgotten; what laid then was just calm Reki, inside and out.

On the way home we ate in a hut-tea stall  and hitched a ride back home somehow.

It has been more than 2 years since we went trekking. Why am I writing about it now? Well, I am just scared that one day I might lose my memory (like Amir Khan in Ghajini) or have Alzheimer and won’t be able to recall anything back. I want to store it somewhere safe besides my own fading memory.

That was one of the last few things we did together. We parted ways, only to cherish the moments shared and be treasured in our memory banks.

Imaginary Cowboy

Same country different cities

Never met, never seen

Fan of cowboy, the Wild-West guy

A poet, blogger, painter and tweep;

If we cross paths I long to tell:
'How impressive, your art
How intriguing, your writings
How touching, your poems
Each line pulls my heartstrings.'

Admiration beams from miles away
Oh! Ye imaginary being

Are you equally impressive in reality? 

A  foggy ride to LUNG NUPA

“Life is eternal, love is immortal and death is only a horizon. Life is eternal as we move into the light and the horizon is nothing saved the limit of our sight”

                                                                                            ~Carly Simon

‘Lung NuPa’ which literally means the rock couple are separated due to one or the other external factors. Legend has it that every fullmoon night they come closer to each other for their love for each other is so strong. I don’t know if it is a concocted story to romanticize the stones’ expansion in summer and contraction in winter.

As a child we were told of the story each time we pass by Bualpui N, a small town along NH-54. It has piqued my interest since then but never visited until one fine morning my riding partners made an impromptu decision.

The alarm rang at 5-ish on a chilly January morning. The town was asleep and we, THE DAWNBREAKERS (Mr. T suggested the name) with our double layered sweaters ( some triple layered)  started our journey. The fog made us almost blind with its white blanket and smoke-like effects. The ride was mystical, magical as if in a fairyland but cold and chilly like walking barefoot in the Arctic Pole!

We reached the spot after about 40 minutes of foggy ride and the view?? ‘OMG!’ was our only reaction.

Sea of clouds-

Mystical mountains-

Majestic sunrise-

And ofcourse, ‘Lung NuPa’ which stood tall and proud.

The ‘Nu’ is huge (HUGE huge) and the ‘Pa’ is smaller but huge nonetheless.

We're ants compared to the smaller rock

One amongst us was ‘monkey’ enough to have climbed the rock and meditate, searching for his peace.

 

The quieter you become the more you can hear  ~Ram Dass

Some more which are beautiful to me :

Like most of our impromptu journeys this one was a satisfying one. Yet another beautiful moment captured for my memory bank and a magical one I cannot not pen.

January Rain!

Three fools and a get-together,

Talked of Plato, Marx and Twitter.

‘Lets head for the woods!’ one exclaimed

‘Yes!’ said all the three together.

Eggs, salad, fish and chips

All swallowed along with the drink;

Talked of heaven, talked of hell

And any random thoughts they thought had a flair.

The clock struck 9, they headed home

The non-sensical talk went on.

Their laughter gave life to the deserted road

Their joyous mood shone in the dark;

They pretended to be the only 3 in the world

And let their laughter echo in the dark.

Until the road diverged into three

They experienced bliss under the January rain!

Fear of falling vs Fear of never learning

People : You’re such a tom boy and you don’t know how to cycle? Seriously?

(Looks can be deceptive you see)

Me: Yeah! I don’t know how to *cringing*

People: How is that even remotely possible?

Me: Never got a chance until now. The extremely narrow roads and uphill/slopes plus my busy schedule stopped me. Besides, I never gave a thought to it.

PHEW!

Okay! I had a plan to visit a Santhali village in Dec, 2015. Plan failed ofcourse!

With the few money that I had I thought I would atleast go to Aizawl and live lavishly for a week. Plan failed again!

Nonetheless, one fine evening as I was randomly surfing I came across a picture of a cycle. I had money, I had time, why not learn cycling! I didn’t tell Maa about it until the last moment.

Her reaction: Shouldn’t you be ashamed! You’re already too old for a cycle (I am not very sure if she was talking about ..you know..Hymen!) .Besides what will your students think of you? blah! Blah! Blah..

Me: I feel like defying you this time and I will.

Hopped into a Sumo the next day , bought a cycle on Christmas eve (The ironical part is Maa accompanied me and chose the cycle). Somehow dragged it under the heat and dust and finally reached the sumo stand (not to mention they already waited for us for like an hour)

Yay! Reached home finally with my brand new FIREFOX AXIS 24!!

Day 1:Uncle woke me up, tried to teach me cycling but my fear was stronger than my will to learn. I didn’t learn a thing. (First tutor failed)

Day 2: Cousin took me and my younger sis. She learnt it quickly whereas I sat there and watched them for I was worried about falling (coward as I am)

Day 3: Father woke me up at 5, he tried to be my third tutor. My brake skills couldn’t stop me from getting into the gutter thrice. THRICE!!

Day 4: I didn’t wake anyone, I decided to go on this journey alone. It was all dark, no taxis, no autos, not a single soul to be seen. It was just I and my Cycle. It was only on this day that I made up my mind and forced myself to accept this :-

‘If I have to fall in order to learn then so be it!’

After 24 days  I finally learnt how to ride on slopes and leveled roads like a pro. The skill to cycle uphill is not  yet acquired but I will someday.

I had 4 roads in my bucket lists:

1)   Banglakawn to Diakkawn—Done!

2)   Diakkawn to Rengtekawn—Done!

3)   Rengtekawn to Rengte tlang sang- Done!

4)   Banglakawn to Bualpui—Now this one is saved for the closest Sunday, if all else works J

The art of cycling didn’t come easily; I bruised, I fell (toppled infact) multiple times but the scars they left were nothing compared to the satisfaction it gave me, the satisfaction to learn a new thing. It might sound too much to some but it did boost my confidence. For a person who has a natural fear of riding/ driving it was a big deal to have run inbetween huge trucks/ cars/ bikes/autos/humans  and riding on NH-54!

And a big THANKYOU to my riding partners, Mr. T ,V and cute P for being so patient with this slow learner. Also, to all those neighbours, from grannies/grandpas to 5 year old kids, who tried teaching me all on the 1^st day itself. It was kinda overwhelming to see how supportive they were (plus point of living in a close knit community even though we fight over water connections heeee)

Message:

·       You’re not too old to learn new things

·       Do not listen to what people say

·       Get involved in physical activities before you reach 30

·       Do not ever be embarrassed to learn anything which the society (baah!) claims inappropriate for your age

·       Let the Fear of never learning always win over the Fear of falling because ‘Dar ke Aage Jeet Hai’  remember?