A journey of nine hours through the ups and downs of
mountain roads can be quite winding and arduous. For the passengers, the
journey was therefore made better by the occasional stops for sweet chai,
stuffed parathas and shared cigarettes. These were pit stops,
unplanned but necessary. Necessary as much to rest the eyes (for the view
around was breathtaking), as to rest the mind (for the mind tends to meander at
a higher speed, as if to compensate for the slow driving in the hills, and this
journey of the mind is usually inward, towards an elusive deeper meaning, and
can be more exhausting than it seems to the unobserving eye!). These stop overs
were the points in the journey where conversations would happen, ranging from
how boring work was and how callous the bosses were, to the latest in the world
of sports and politics. Then the driver would wordlessly signal departure and
all would get ready for the way ahead.
In journeys such as these, music plays quite an
important role, in setting up the mood or in starting conversations, but
sometimes, the best part is the pause between the changing of the songs for it
is in the brief silence that they could hear the sound of the wind in the
trees, of the water flowing a couple of hundred feet below or of the occasional
pitter patter of the rain beating down on the road. The air smelled clean and
pure, a much needed change from the smoky city air, and the passersby seemed less
worried and more happy. They smiled an easy smile, almost as if smiling at us,
pitying the lives we lead far away in the cities and saying to us,
"Welcome to our side of the world. We might not have the latest gizmos and
gadgets, but we certainly have happiness in our hearts. Can you say the same
about yourself?”. This last question was in reality more a figment of the
imagination, a guilt ridden in our own hearts, imagining our lives to be more
difficult than those of others with a different way of life. Our
intelligence, the others' wealth and the others' peace of mind always appear
more than they actually are, or so the saying goes. Nonetheless, by the
look of it, these souls did seem more content and simple.
What defines happiness? The answer would, of course
vary from one individual to another, but would a common definition include the
prospect of doing what seems normal to oneself without the beings around
pouncing and snatching what they claim is their
share of your bliss?
It was a dark place, literally, with a cloud cover
blotting out the sun. It was as close to nature as one would get but it was as
if the sun wasn't allowed there, banished to the cities and thereall. The
darkness was very apt and suited the place. Part of the human mind is still
scared of the light and is more comfortable in the dark because light shows
things the way they are where as darkness leaves some things to the
imagination. In a place like this, imagination is of great importance, partly
because it gives the freedom to view life in a different, if darker light and
makes you see things as you haven't seen them before, and partly because of the
cover of anonymity it provides allowing you to be closer to who you are without
the fear of others noticing it.
There were numerous cafés to visit, and not one had
anyone asking you to come in. You were welcome in any and all of them and no
one would stop you or welcome you with an open door. You would have to find
yourself a place and though it might seem strange in the beginning, it adds to
the beauty of the place. Once inside, you could sit anywhere on the many rugs
laid out in a rectangular pattern with pillows to support your back and arms.
Good music added to the ambience of the dark lights setting up the mind on a
journey that would take you away from all worries and allow you to be yourself,
in the most primal and pure form. You could laugh, cry, or just be who you are
and no one would ask you anything. Everyone around had an understanding, even
accepting expression in their eyes. It was as if they were saying, “We have
been on a similar journey as you, and we know it has been difficult. Why don’t
you rest your tired mind for a little while? It is ok and all for the good. You
need it.” The waiters would come and have a happy smile on their faces, and you
would wonder if you would get the drinks and dishes you wanted or something
entirely different. But slowly, you would relax and start to go with the flow,
trusting the surroundings and those in it. Trusting that it will all be good.
And it does turn out to be good. The food and drinks do arrive, albeit in their
own sweet time, but the food is good and the wait is worth it.
Then there was Motu, the black dog who set out with us
on the journey of the wild, a two kilometer walk into the forest to sit with us
by the riverside for an hour and whose ears picked up the scent of a wolf on
the other side of the river and who warned us to head back. Not content with that, he showed us the entire way back and was there with us till the next morning when we
headed back to the wilderness called the city.
This was a place that would be visited
again, not for the darkness, but for the journey within, not for the food, but
for the impersonal nature of the place, for the loyal Motu, for the
intoxicating freedom the place offers, for the seeds of the dreams it plants in
the mind…
