Musings on the hills
By RAJBIR DESWAL
CALL of the hills—there!
I hear, ‘Here, here!’
Roll up, slide down
Cheer, fresh air
Highly hilly
‘Here! Here!’
You turn to me O’ hills as I retrun to you!
THERE IS attendant quietitude in the hills. Our suite has stubbornly turned its back from the road. Night creatures’flitting and screaming does penetrate the glass panes. Looks like there is nobody who lives here. Even the morning Sun will not wake anything up with loud implorations. Mobile phones too behave, thanks to the network gobble up.
SOGGY SUNSHINE, fifty grams of hail, hundred and fifty grams of sleet, balanced breeze and rest of them all were human figures in Shimla City—some locals, others tourists but only a few hill lovers. Some serendipity should find them all in the lap of nature—pure nature.
NO IT’S NOT necessary that a Mexican wave can generate only in Mexico . Also that, while in Shimla you need to do as they do in Shimla—You can stay not as laid back! Be up and about!
RAIN OR SHOWER too are like chords .They twang some musical notes too. Like a chord is only a chord if the notes are not touched at appropriate gamuts. Put your hand on the falling drops or sprout and it sings a song, not just pitter-patter of it.
AT JAKHOO Hanuman temple in Shimla, a large army of monkeys greets you but how does the management know that not looking into the eyes of a monkey will let it not torment you, frighten you, search your pockets, snatch your stuff and take away smartly your goggles or specs to be returned after the monkey is fed two roasted gram packets? Now I understand why am I always frisked at the foreign airports. Some monkey sense you see should be the key see a man.
A DAY FULL of adventure. Tata Pani in Satluj has hot springs . On the way the rafting part was a natural attraction which went a little wrong. Then a hitchhike on to serendipitous kacha route circuiting deep forests and high dusty peaks with slush on the way. Rains on reaching Shimla played the spoilt sport.Such things keep happening in the hills.
MY FRINED in Goa Allen Desa says he is a man of water—Pani ka aadmi. My frined Pankaj Molekhi from Uttrakhand says he is a man of the hills—Pahad ka aadmi. My friend Meshi from Haryana says he is earthy to the core—Zameen ka aadmi. Where do I belong?
I HAD HEARD of a simile ‘as slippery as an eel’ but in the hills, while climbing down the slopes, one must modify it to ‘as slippery as pine-needles’. If you start slipping from over them, it’s only the pine-trees that would block you from slipping further down.
Freezing temperature only doesn’t make the wall-clock hands go still. It’s a question of being charged up. But how to replace battery without inviting a lizard jumping on your chest. Eeeeeeshhh!!!
THE KITCHEN BOY is an expert in serving hot tea with one continued running sprout through four cups. You also need to splurge the stuff down hurriedly before it gets to substitute for ice-tea. Asking for another cuppa has been quite in vogue ever since the British claimed they knew best teeing-etiquette.
NOW BACK home, I recall the reaction of the kids, in a goats-flock, who probably saw our car for the first time in their life, since we chose that kacha route through and though the thick fields and jungles The moms too, spitting that leafy-feed from the high bushes rushed to the kids’ rescue telling—Me-he-he—they’re holidayers, they’ll soon go back…me-he-he!
The sun is much loved in the hills than the moon which is much awaited, for the latter keeps playing hide and seek more than it does in the plains when clouds are there or hills themselves. Yes the stars in the hills you can touch and feel raising your arm.
Whatever wild way, contrasted or matching, or even just for a trial if it gets hit for market use (sic!), nature puts colours in the flowers and they look so natural.
As is my vont, I go for serendipitous finding of places, untrodden, unvisited, unruffled and really inviting to stay for a while! Saw some very scary rocks at noontime when we thought how dreadful they should look during the night. But the thought that we could only drive through and not really see the monster rocks lessened the dreadfulness then felt. Not being able to see the dreading scenarios almost negates and wipes them off!
In the hills we are staying close to a seasonal stream. The window opens on boulders and sand brought here from God knows where and when—their grind being a different question. But I reconstruct a scence when it should flowing water in it almost proclaiming and proving to the rest of the world—supplant embankments, trees, plants, shrubs, even bridges and causeways. Almost like a child who sits in a flashy car and shows off to his cronies his sitting in the flashy car!
With jungles creatures opera played with the accompaniment of a chord of silence all around, even the casually rendered barking of a dog at a far off distance seems to add notes to the quietude of hills.
Beyond the slopes and steep, there appears a melted horizon that keeps showing and showing and showing. A hill-view to the hilt!
The evening lights dancing on, and dipping deep in the pond water, make the visual a perfect blend of spirituality serenity and ethereal inquisitiveness.
THE THREE day trip to Shimla unfolded many other things that escape the attention of a common tourist. Buildings and hotels are littered with traffic, but we had a way out.
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