Dear Kabir,
It’s been more than a week that I came back from Kedarnath, Shiva’s abode in mountains. People there said it took them 6-7 hours to reach the temple. I thought it will take me 10 hours, but it was a difficult trek, Kabi. I took good 11-12 hours of time. I gave up a few kilometers before reaching the top. My lungs gave up! My chest got choked and I was not able to breathe. I got scared. For a moment I thought I will not reach anywhere, I will neither reach the top, nor I will be able to descend. I sat there on the bench with my heart pumping as high as it could, tears rolling down my cheeks. I wanted to reach the top as quickly as I could because I heard that aarti takes place in the evening and it is very beautiful. Before reaching the top let me walk you through the trek.
We got a room at Gaurikund, the starting point of the trek for Kedarnath. Gaurikund is an enclosed town, covered with houses converted to guest houses and little shops to cater to your daily needs. We got a small room on the first floor by the riverside. The night was quiet with the sound of the river and some pilgrimages passing by and chatting. I could not sleep for a long time and then don’t know when I would have dozed off. I woke up a little late than the decided time but got ready on time. The outside view was beautiful! The sound of river Mandakini flowing, the crescent moon shining above the mountains right under the azure sky, like a beautiful lady standing with her head covered with blue dupatta and has put a bindi in the shape of a crescent moon, like a Maratha lady, and singing a morning raga. Birds too were enjoying the music. I stood in the balcony enchanted by the simple yet mesmerizing beauty of the mountains. Mountains remind me of you, Kabi, of your strength and resilient nature. I know you would be laughing reading this. You always chuck it off as a joke, but I have seen that in your eyes. See, mountains always drift me towards you. Coming back to the mountains again.
So, we started our trek and I think I got huffed and puffed in one kilometer only. *hiding my face in palms* I don’t know Kabi if it was the place or what, but I could feel a different kind of energy from the beginning of the trek. Something that stirs your soul or makes a connection with it. The starting was not sunlit and in front was Mount Kedar shining golden under the November sun. It looked very small initially and with every passing step, it kept getting bigger and bigger. There are many stalls on the way where one can stop, rest, and satiate their hunger. You know that I like tea in mountains. More than drinking tea I think I like the idea of holding the warm cup in cold hands. Aah! What a soothing feeling it is, Kabi. Oh, and they serve all kinds of paranthas. Not like regular paranthas we eat at home. Huge paranthas! I could only eat half of it. Uff! Food also drifts me away from the main topic. In terms of food, I consider myself a proper Punjabi. *grinning*. So, coming back to the mountains again. 😊
There comes a place called Rambara, after which the climb is very steep. And, as you keep climbing taking little steps, you reach a point from where the sun starts shining on you. Looking at the sun, I stopped, stood facing towards the sun, and took a deep breath. No, it didn’t help me with walking as I expected but it was peaceful. I almost forgot to tell you, the tin roof of these eateries is painted mostly in red, green and blue color and it looks beautiful when sun rays fall on them from behind the mountains on the opposite side. It’s a beautiful feeling to be in the mountains with the right company. There was this guy on the way, a tall guy traveling with a very small backpack, the entire way he was playing little drum and chanting “har har mahadev”, he seemed to be happy high. We also befriended two guys from Delhi. The journey got more fun loving and interesting along with their company. I told you initially how difficult this trek was for me. So, chucking out the details of reaching the top, let me now show you the magical evening at Kedarnath.
We reached Kedarnath, right before the sunset and the evening aarti. As one enters the Kedarnath complex, 500 meters before the temple is the Helipad, it looks nothing less than a foreign place. There was nothing spiritual about it apart from looking at the yellow helicopter from close, against the brown backdrop of mountains under the blue sky and the wind being produced by it. While people stood there watching it, I passed it just with a glimpse but stood frozen after a few steps. Right at the footsteps of Kedarnath, we were welcomed with the setting sun, its hues falling on the tip of Mt. Kedar and making it appear red. The same tip that glowed golden under the afternoon sun. We reached a day before Chhoti Diwali and the temple was being decorated for it with yellow and orange marigold flowers. As the sun descended, the temple stood amidst the mountains, lit with lights that kept changing colors; purple, pink, yellow, red. It was magical, Kabi, beyond words. I was grateful that I could reach the top right on time and witness this beautiful scene. It was time for aarti now. I did not know much about how aarti is performed. So, taking advantage of my short height and cute puppy face, I bent down and sat in the front row, right in front of the temple kapaat (door), with pandit ji (main priest) in front of me, doing pooja and people chanting “har har mahadev” from behind me. I had never felt like this before. I was happy from inside. Like a little girl, I stood in its awe, running from here to there, excited to know what is going to happen next. There were two Aghori babas sitting on the right side of the temple, I loved the energy of the one sitting on the left. He was a savage baba! I don’t know if I’m allowed to say this about any baba. He was witty! That night, I slumbered in the spine-chilling temperature of -4 degrees. Well, I think survived would be a better word to use here. The morning was beautiful, again because the mountains obviously and the aura of the place.
Strangely, there is no network at the start of the trek and as you reach the top, you are welcomed with a Wi-Fi zone. I didn’t like it much though. *raised eyebrows* I was reminded of Sean Penn’s dialogue from “The secret life of Walter Mitty”, “If I like a moment, I mean; me, personally, I don’t like to have the distraction of the camera. I just want to stay in it, right there.” And, I stood there in that moment, taking in everything, the sun rays, Mt. Kedar, temple, Shiva, blue sky, leaving a piece of my heart there in the abode of Shiva.
Lovingly only yours
Zafu
I had no reasons to join this language course except for the fact that I was free and so was this course. Hell yeah! Sounds weird? Of course in today’s time a free language course sounds fishy. Why would they do that? Don’t they have enough students to learn their language? Or maybe nobody wants to learn Hungarian. Questions like this were banging in my head when a friend of mine helped me in getting enrolled for the course. My stars can’t thank him enough for this gesture of him. I hope he reads this. 🙂 Okay, so my first class which happened after around five days of the commencement of the course. Sigh! I hope you understand the pain of missing a language class, that too the elementary part, like missing Ka,Kha,Ga of Hindi class. Chuck! I was trying to be funny. Okay, so coming back to my first class, as I entered the class, I was shocked to see around hundred students (of all age group). Like students more than my father’s age. I liked it instantly. Prior to this, and I must admit that to my reluctance, my father and I learned Italian together. He somehow couldn’t give his exam but this made me know him better and his zeal for learning something new along with his struggles of remembering things. Anyway, coming back to the first class again (I have this habit of deviating from main topic) 😛 So, amidst all the students who were attending class from first day, I found myself lost in the pronunciation of the ‘magyar ábécé’ (Hungarian ABC). After that I wasn’t very regular with the classes but I kept trying learning it, missing some part, and then again picking it up from the next lesson. I didn’t made much friends at that time, I didn’t talk to anybody much. I came, attended the class, and went home. I don’t know that even after all this irregularity what kept me glued to this class.
So apart from my irregularities of classes, I was always regular at least with the events organized by Hungarian Cultural Centre. I hope the cultural people don’t read it. hiding face in palms I love exploring places, meeting new people, knowing about their culture. So attending events was like satiating my soul by knowing about their culture through powerpoint presentations, their music, songs and dance. And then of course snacks followed by events was like ‘icing on the cake’. Food makes a Punjabi happy! 😀 I have been to many events organized by various embassies but I found people here at this embassy very grounded and humble. Always smiling, talking to everybody, clicking pictures together and yes how can I forget mentioning Mr.Wilhelm’s (the director) wife preparing finger licking Hungarian delicacies for us. I mean who does that?
When everything got settled at my home, I rejoined the classes. Everything was changed this time. From hundred students to just fifteen were left. Now, I started talking to fellow students. They helped me in coping up with the syllabus. Tanár (teacher) helped me in understanding the lessons that I missed. Events were not happening much but this time I became almost (I was still missing some classes) regular with the classes. I now knew what kept me glued to this course and not leave it in between. It was because of our professor Ms.Margit Köves. Her patience and sweetness encouraged me to keep attending the classes. Wondering how? Well, as I said that I wasn’t regular with the classes so I didn’t know much of the things in the class but then she was always patient and never scolded me for not knowing the things. This motivated me to put more efforts to understand the things. She is from Hungary. No, I absolutely didn’t want to point out that she is not an Indian teacher. winks 😀 You got my point right! Right?
Finally, they met at a restaurant in CP. No holding hands, no hugs, no kisses; just a formal hello. Hiding her tears behind her smile, she asked him about his family and he asked her about her parents. There was an awkward silence. She still thought that Kabir would hold her hand and say “Zafu, let’s run away. Everything will be alright after some time”. This was just her thought. Kabir then broke the silence by saying that “I’m sorry. I feel guilty”. His voice wasn’t trembling. There were no tears rolling down from his eyes. Her mind drifted to his words which he said few weeks back with tears filled in his eyes. She was confused. Her heart was in a dilemma of trusting to what he said earlier or what he was saying now. She had been a good listener always. She kept listening to him. He just had one thing to say that we started on a condition. Condition, that if our parents will agree then only we will get married. She had lot to say but she wasn’t able to bring words out of her mouth. She kept listening. When Kabir was done saying whatever he wanted to say. She took a deep breath and opened her mouth, “But ma never met me, Kabi. My age cannot make me less good or less kind. My age cannot make me a bad person. You could have at least made her meet me. This way I would have thought that you made efforts to keep the relationship. You moved on very easily. I once told you that I was like a bridge on the river that stayed and you were like a passenger who crossed that bridge. My words were true. I loved you, Kabi. And a part of me will always love you.”
Lately, I’ve learned that everything we do is an art. There’s art in sleeping, talking, speaking, walking and in every action that we do. I’ve also come to believe that each of us as a human being is a piece of art in itself, created by the Supreme power. And we all are beautiful in our own way, irrespective of our shape, color and caste.
When Zafirah was small, under the winter sun of every 26th of the January month, her father use to take her to the terrace of the house and show her flying planes, the fighter ones. Since then the flying planes in the open blue sky and sound of it has always fascinated her. She smiles whenever she sees the one in sky!
