The elusive Himalayas

 

At the little outdoor cafe in Dhampus, waiting...

(Image credit: my dear friend, Deepa)

Encounters with high mountains burn the fat off one’s soul ~ Ernest Hemingway

In April 2019, my best friend Deepa and I visited Nepal to catch up with an old friend, and to catch a glimpse of the magestic Himalayas, perhaps even it’s highest peak, Mt. Everest!

After the chaos and crowds of Kathmandu, Nepal’s capital city, we travelled to the lake district of Pokhara, which boasted amazing views of the Annapurna range of the Himalayas on a clear day. But we were greeted by cloudy skies. We waited patiently a few of days, taking in the local sights and sounds around Lake Phewa, and I even got to realize my long-cherished dream of Paragliding. Undoubtedly one of the BEST experiences I’ve ever had, it’s the closest I’ve ever come to flying, and it took my breath away and made me feel “free as a bird” for a while—but I will save that story for another day.

Disappointed by the cloudy skies and no sign of the mountains yet, we decided to trek up to the little village of Dhampus—to get away from the crowd of tourists, and experience a more rustic scene—but also in the hope that being highter up will give us a better chance of catching a glimpse of the beautiful Himalayas. After a 2 hour back-breaking trek up hundreds of stone steps, lugging our heavy backpacks with us, we reached the picturesque village of Dhampus. The difficult journey had it’s rewards—wildflowers, plateaus of green paddy fields, amazing views of the valley below and the green hills around us, even vultures circling overhead (which we jokingly said were waiting for one of us to drop in exhaustion!)—but still no sign of the mountains.

The view from midway up the trail from Phedi to Dhampus

When we reached Dhampus—once again, we were greeted by cloudy skies. The locals kept pointing to places in the sky where the mountains usually were, but all we could see were overcast skies. We stayed at a small bed and breakfast place with it’s small outdoor cafe and colourful prayer flags flying in the wind, and were happy for a hot meal, a bath and a warm bed for the night. Deepa and I awoke early the next morning—it was cold, but we wrapped ourselves up, and, armed with steaming mugs of coffee, we sat at the outdoor cafe waiting for Sunrise—in the hope that the warmth of the sun will clear the clouds enough to catch a glimpse of the snow-capped mountains. As we waited, the sun rose behind the veil of clouds, but the skies remained a dull gray. Deepa played with the cats at the hotel, and I sat doodling on a piece of paper, and eventually sketching the beautiful rustic landscape of Dhampus—mesmerizing, as we waited patiently.

The product of all that patient waiting..

Suddenly, without warning, the hotel in-charge ran towards us pointing up at the sky. I had my back to where the mountains were (I couldn’t have known because there was nothing there all this while), and as I turned, I saw a patch of sky slowly clearing, and suddenly this massive snow-covered mountain peak appeared out of nowhere—Annapurna. It took my breath away! Although it was the clouds that were moving, it looked like the mountain was moving and making way for itself amidst a sea of clouds—a veritable iceberg in the sky! It only lasted a couple of minutes, just enough time for me to grab my phone and take a few pictures, and then further away I caught a glimpse of the “fish tail” mountain, Machapuchare, the sun glinting off the “fish tail” shaped peak—and then it was all gone—lost in the swirling mists, like it had never happened—like it was just a dream.

The reward - Annapurna

If anything, that one magical glimpse left us wanting more—longing for just one more view of the beautiful Himalayas. We stayed a few more days in Dhampus, walking around the village, visiting a Buddhist monastery, hiking through the beautiful countryside, but we never caught sight of the mountains again—hills all around us, but no Himalayas in sight.

We headed back to Kathmandu, and the locals told us about Nagarkot, a one hour drive uphill from Kathmandu, where on a clear day, one can catch a glimpse of Mt. Everest, the tallest and most spectacular peak in the Himalayas. We needed to try—one last attempt. On the morning of our departure, an hour before sunrise, we took an early morning cab ride in a rickety old cab, its windows falling to pieces, holes in the floorboard through which we could literally see the pot-holed roads of Kathmandu, racing with the sun, eager to arrive at the viewpoint just before sunrise (that’s when you had the best chance of seeing the peak, we were told—just as the sun was rising, melting away the clouds and casting its golden light on the mountains). When we reached the view point, it was still cloudy, and we were the only ones there, save for one more determined soul—a local photographer. As we waited and waited, sunrise turned into late morning, but the clouds stayed put. Then the photographer came over and told us not to feel too badly, he said in all his life in Kathmandu, he had only ever caught a glimpse of Mt. Everest about 3 times! That’s how rare it was to have a clear sky in that part of the world!

As we boarded our flight back home, we felt a bit cheated. In our search for the elusive Himalayas, we had only caught one glimpse of the beautiful snow-capped peaks in our entire 2 weeks in Nepal. As the plane took off, I wished that somehow we would see the mountains from up there perhaps, but then realized we would be flying south, so that was highly unlikely (What I didn’t know was that the plane was making another stop at Delhi airport first, meaning, we would be flying parallel to the Himalayan mountain range for a while!). I looked out at the sea of clouds below me, feeling dejected. And suddenly both Deepa and I saw something amazing—we could not believe our eyes—it looked like an eye in the sky, opening up in the bank of clouds below—and there rising magestically out of the eye-shaped opening, were snow-covered mountain peaks—icebergs in the sky! When I saw those icy peaks emerging from the clouds like a Divine “eye in the sky”, I knew I was witnessing Divinity manifest in Creation—the Source of everything. I can only assume one of them was Mt.Everest, being the highest peak and high enough to tower over the thick swirling clouds. The pilot made an announcement over the intercom that we were passing the Himalayas now, and most everyone just ignored the announcement. But Deepa had tears in her eyes, and I felt the Universe move within my being—“Seek, and you shall find”(Matthew 7:7)—as we soaked in our last rewarding view of the elusive Himalayas.

View of the Himalayas from the plane - the peaks piercing through the clouds

And, when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it. ~ Paulo Coelho

Nature is the first Bible ~ Fr. Richard Rohr

* Dedicated to "The Terrible Twins", a term coined by my dearest Dad. :) 

My Dad showed us the cranes

When we were kids, my Dad would show us the cranes flying home each evening in perfect formation. Whenever he saw them from the terrace of our home, he would point them out to my brother and I, and talk about their perfect V or W formations with great admiration. And if we were lucky, we’d get to see them change formation in mid-flight. It was quite amazing to watch. There were a few ponds and water bodies in the area, so this was a fairly common sight each evening, but we never failed to stop our game of cricket or football, just to watch the cranes flying overhead. It usually signalled an end to our playtime, as dusk was falling, and it was time to go indoors.

My Dad had a knack of quietly pointing out to us interesting sights that a kid might otherwise overlook, like the hills in the distance on a really clear day, the golden sunsets from our terrace, the bright orange skies at twilight (he’d say it was a sign there’d be Mackeral at the fish market the next day), the birds, the trees, the flowers in our garden.. there’s so much we learnt from him. He was a great role-model, he took pleasure in the little things, and instilled in us a respect and appreciation for Nature.

Ever since my Dad passed away 7 months ago, I’ve been watching and waiting for a sign - something to tell me that he’s ok, and that he can still see us and be with us in Spirit. My little 2 year old daughter often talks to “Papa” (my Dad) when she passes his photograph in our living room. And I always tell her, “Papa can hear you, he’s your guardian angel now”.

One day she opened the front door by herself to sit on our front doorstep and watch the birds and people passing by. I was in the kitchen and didn’t know she had stepped outside. Suddenly I heard her cry, she had slipped and fallen down the two steps. I ran to her and picked her up, checked for injuries, and found to my relief that she was unharmed. I carried her indoors and told her, “See baby, Jesus saved you.”. She replied and corrected me, “Papa saved you” (she still uses “you” instead of “me” to refer to herself).

One of our evening rituals is to put out breadcrumbs for our little feathered friends who visit our front yard every day - the bulbuls, tits, sparrows, wood pigeons, babblers, and sometimes a mischievous chipmunk or two. My daughter will often see a crow or pigeon flying overhead on their way to roost, and she’d say, “Bye crow, go home safely”. As we were looking up at the evening sky a few weeks ago, I mentioned to her how, as a child, Papa and I used to watch the cranes flying home, and how we’d never seen any cranes here since we’d moved to the hills a year ago (not surprising, since we don’t have any large water bodies in the surrounding area). She had never seen a crane, so while she listened patiently to my childhood story, she probably had no idea what I was talking about.

A few days later, we went outside late one evening after dark (it must have been around 8 p.m.), to try out a “light-up” toy that my husband had bought her. It worked like a catapult and had to be launched high into the air, and then as it came down like a parachute, it’s twinkling lights lit up and twirled around like helicopter blades. It was quite exciting to watch, and as we stood in the dark sending up the little helicopter over and over again, we noticed lightning over the hills in the distance, and suddenly a huge barn owl flew low overhead. As we oo’d and aa’d over these sights, I suddenly looked up to see a flock of cranes flying overhead in the dark, in perfect formation! And just as they flew over us, they changed formation in mid-flight. It was so beautiful to see, and so unexpected, that I was astonished and mentioned to my husband how only days earlier I had been talking about the cranes I used to watch with my Dad as a child.

Later that night, I researched crane behaviour online, and found that they rarely, if ever, fly at night. In many cultures and spiritual traditions, cranes are believed to be messengers between heaven and earth, connecting the spiritual and physical worlds. Since that day, I have been keeping a watch for cranes at dusk or anytime I go out later in the night, but I’ve never seen any. Whether they were just migrating cranes, or cranes flying to a distant home on a route they knew well, the fact that they were flying in pitch darkness and at an unlikely hour, makes me wonder if this was the sign I had been waiting for. Nevertheless, it made my smile and made my heart a little lighter that night. And I felt my Dad smiling back at me.

My happiest memory from my childhood

My happiest memories are from my childhood, to the days when my Dad would bicycle with my brother in the back seat (carrier), and me on a little makeshift seat he had fixed to the crossbar in front, all the way to the railway lines to watch the trains go by. 

My hometown was a quiet little railway colony back in the day, and my brother and I would wait for Sunday mornings so we could go with my Dad to see the trains, and afterward buy crunchy pears and ripe plums from an old lady who used to sit by the railway crossing selling fruit. I can still taste the sweet plums and the excitement whenever we saw her! 

The whole experience was such a thrill for us! And on the ride back, my Dad would happily hum familiar tunes, and the song I remember most clearly is him singing "Put on your bonnet, your cape, and your glove, And come with me...", because I always wore a sun hat on our rides. The three of us would then turn our thoughts homeward, to the lovely lunch awaiting us - most often, fried fish and rice, and couldn't wait to tell my mum all about our adventures of the morning. 

These happy memories of a cherished childhood are all I have now, since I lost my Dad four months ago. And though they bring a tear to my eye now, that will always remain one of the happiest times of my life.

A Tribute to Dad

 

It wouldn't be right to say "Goodbye" to Daddy without paying tribute to the wonderful man he was. If Daddy could have seen how many loved ones came to bid him adieu, he would know how loved he was, and still is. 

Daddy was the BEST Father in the world! He's the only man I know whose nieces and nephews also fondly called him "Dad". To him, there was nothing more important than his family. He loved us, and nurtured us, and worked tirelessly to give us a good life and good values. He taught us well, and he always led by example. Many of our family and friends have also said he was a great role model to them. He was a true gentleman, a man's man, and he carried himself with grace and dignity. He had strong ethics, both in his professional life and in his personal life, and he was loved and respected for it. He was kind and hospitable to everyone who visited our home, and nothing gave him more pleasure than eating a hearty meal and enjoying a "wee drop" (as he called it) with his friends and family around the table. 

He was a loyal and dedicated husband to mum, and they are a shining example of what marriage and commitment truly means, having spent 62 wonderful years together. Mum recently had a stroke, and could not care for Dad the way she used to. Dad watched in silence as mum struggled to learn to walk again, and regain her balance. It must have broken his heart to see her that way, because he wrote on her birthday gift just weeks before he passed away, "Missing you..".

As his children, Chris and I enjoyed his unconditional love and attention, and I will never forget our Sunday bicycle rides to see the trains with Dad singing, "Put on your bonnet, your cape and your glove, and come with me..." (I always wore a sun hat on our rides). We had many adventures with him in the garden, growing and harvesting different fruits and vegetables. Everything I know about gardening, I learnt from him. He took great pride in his garden, and could often be seen pottering around in the mornings, well into his retirement years. 

Daddy travelled a lot for work, but there was always so much joy when he returned home after his tours. He loved his home. He built it with so much love and care, and made it such a warm and safe place for us to grow up in. Even after I left home, I always knew I had a place to return to. I can never forget the picture of him waiting anxiously on the platform for my train to arrive, or the sadness in his eyes when my trained pulled out of the station and I had to go back. He was never late, and he was always there, until his health didn't permit him to come to the station anymore. Daddy didn't express his emotions much in words, but you could see how much he felt for us. He was very protective of his family, and I believe he's still watching over us now.

We are blessed to have had him as our Father, and our children are blessed to have known their Grandfather. Joshua and Leah will continue his Legacy now.

And so Daddy, it is with heavy hearts we say Goodbye to you, but I hope and pray one day we'll meet again, and I'll come running into your arms the way I did when I was a little girl.

 "Go rest high on that mountain, Dad your work on earth is done

Go to heaven a-shouting, Love for the Father and the Son." 

~ Vince Gill

Poem - Finding Eutopia

I stepped into a world unknown,

And felt like I was coming home.

The lights were bright, the air fragrant,

Their words were kind, their smiles radiant.

Light-filled beings everywhere I see,

Their sparkling eyes filled with mystery.

They let me in and gave me food for thought -

The jewel within will get you through seasons of naught.

A brotherhood of peace is what we are, they said,

Learn to use your heart, and not just your head.

Listen to the voice from deep within,

Truth will free you from the world of illusion.

And so with joyful heart and song, I journey on,

‘Tis wisdom and compassion that makes one strong.

Image Credit: Nikhil Bekal ©

Lost, but found

We've lived in a world so cold, a world that didn't care,

Each man for himself, no time to say a prayer.

Now we're on bended knees, praying for an end,

Can't say this world is any better, unless we make amends.

Can you hear the silent screams of suffering beings?

Their wordless tears don't fall on deaf ears.

For when the Spirit groans, it can stop us in our tracks;

Forgive us now, we've gone too far, now we're coming back.

I wanna reach out and touch you, I wanna send you love,

It's been a month since I've seen a smile, or even felt a hug.

Now all I do is stare at the wall in front of me,

No one to smile or talk to, just myself for company.

It's been a long time I've been living on my own,

It shouldn't matter much that I can't see anyone.

But worse than feeling lonely, is feeling so numb;

When I look in the mirror, don't recognize who I've become.

Feels like I'm going on hundred when I look into my eyes;

It all feels so pointless now, I thought it'd make me wise.

No sound to break the silence, not even voices in my head,

Empty streets outside my home; Inside, an empty bed.

But pain and suffering, they come to make us strong.

Don't give up the fight just yet, this battle can be won.

And I hope when this is over, and a new day has come,

That you and I can still be friends in a world that lives as One.

Credits:

• Inspired by Jon Bon Jovi's #DoWhatYouCan project

A trip to remember - Chikmagalur

The decision was spontaneous and serendipitous,
Guided by some unseen force, our plans fell into place.
The bus was booked, and the home stays were narrowed to four,
Speaking to Mamata, Deepa got the best 'vibe' from her.
We packed light and headed to the bus stop early Saturday morn.
Trying to find each other in that vast and confusing bus stand,
I spotted our faithful friend, the Moon.
New and shiny, that crescent of silver just above Deepa's head
As she walked towards me, was all the reassurance we needed.

Off we were, a smooth bus ride,
Arrived and chauffeured just in time for lunch.
The scent of coffee blossoms filled the air,
The sight of them, like snowflakes, thick on the branches.
Mamata's welcoming smile on the porch
Of a bungalow nestled in the hills.
A garden and a lawn overlooking a hill,
Stately silver oak trees, like sentries all around us,
And that heady coffee blossom perfume in the air.

We couldn't believe our eyes,
This beautiful room, this scrumptious spread,
This kind and attentive hostess,
And a vase that says, "Love makes our House a Home".
After filling our bellies and taking a nap,
Tea and snacks were served,
Then off we went for a walk in the woods before sunset.
We couldn't believe this blessing of beauty all around us!
We returned as daylight faded, to that anxious, smiling face.

The offer of a bonfire made our hearts start to race,
The Fire Ceremony we'd hoped for but not really planned,
Seemed about to fall into place.
Soup and snacks and a little fig wine by the fire,
Chatting with Mamata and watching the antics of the stray cat,
Feverishly writing out on little strips of paper,
The top five things or events from our past holding us back,
The need to let them go, and begin again.
Mamata and the help leave us alone and there is silence all around.

By the crackling flames and under that starry sky,
With the cat as our witness we begin to read,
Choking back tears, we help each other get through this,
Events and people, memories and pain, are read and cast into the flames.
They go up in smoke, rising up towards the stars,
Back to the Universe from whence they came.
Exhausted but relieved, we finish the ceremony,
And our feline friend, like some divine messenger,
Makes a quiet retreat.

Our emotions heightened and just each other for company,
We draw comfort from the stars and the trees.
The psithurism, the glowing embers, the gentle breeze,
Breathes life into us and tells us we are not alone.
Immediately we feel intense but opposite reactions
To this purging ritual -
Deepa feels light, her stomach empty, and she is hungry.
I feel my stomach start to spasm and lose my appetite.
I hydrate and feel a little better, so we sit down to dinner.

The cat makes an appearance, calling to us from outside,
So we feed her some leftovers which she gobbles down hungrily,
Then joins us for a walk under the starry sky.
What a sight to behold - The tall silver oaks and the house,
Silhouetted against black velvet and sparkling diamonds!
We name her "Angel", and when I tell her to look up at the stars,
She promptly rolls over on her back, as if she understood!
Wishing we could lie on the lawn and look up at the stars all night,
We finally go to bed and Deepa sleeps, but I am kept awake by the mosquitoes.

We are up at 4.30 am and the driver picks us up at 5
For the drive up to Mullayanagiri for sunrise.
The journey loses its appeal as my stomach starts to spasm again.
Just as we begin the ascent, I ask to stop and am violently sick.
I wretch and wretch though my stomach is empty, save for two sips of water.
Feeling better and lighter, we drive steadily up the hill,
As dawn breaks, I realize in amusement
My symptoms almost exactly matched
The sacred ayahuasca ritual!

Breathtaking views now, as we rise higher than the clouds,
We climb the last 300 steps on foot, to the summit
And suddenly, as we take that last step, we are greeted by the Sun.
He was rising on the other side, hidden from our view.
A burst of orange fills our eyes and we are breathless, both from the climb & the breathtaking view.
What an auspicious event, to be greeting a new day from the highest peak in Karnataka!
Looking down over the rest of the world,
A symbolic new beginning, as two phoenixes rise from the ashes -
Amazing Anna and Daring Deepa are here to stay.


References:
Fire Ceremony - http://www.thesacredscience.com/a-lesson-in-letting-go/