It’s been 805 days since I’ve called Himachal, home.
For many, it’s been a lifelong dream to wake up every morning in a cottage that is overlooked by the mighty mountains. For me, it was a realization; a sudden one at that. But what worked out for me was exactly that. My mind and heart didn’t romanticize the hills or their existence. I let them woo me, one sunset at a time, and they tested me, one storm at a time.
The initial days were a complete blur that involved hours adjusting to the new routine. I had impeccable amounts of adrenaline rushing through me, ensuring I enjoy the longest of the walks to the most tiring hikes. But that soon started to wear off, and moments of complete breakdown engulfed me.
As December edged nearer, the nights began to get colder in the remote regions of Mashobra, a village an hour away from Shimla. Soon enough, I started to wear everything I owned. The few hours of sunshine that was bestowed upon us felt like a true blessing. At least, I’d managed to appreciate the little things; the mundane things.
Then one night as I flipped ghee soaked paranthas the power went away, a regular occurrence by then. But this time it was a short circuit, and that meant no electricity for a while. That meant no heater throughout the night. The temperature was in minus and I continued to flip paranthas with the help of a dying candle.
Half an hour later my friend who was luckily staying over that night decided to go to another friend’s hotel which was 2kms away. Now, that doesn’t sound too bad, right? But here’s the twist – it was past midnight and our only option was to walk on the black ice roads. It had snowed a couple of days back but now the roads were as slippery as butter on the toast I had that morning with a cup of coffee. The very sight I’d Instagrammed captioning — #Bliss. Ahh, the balance of life and its rules.
Well, we reached the hotel what seemed like an eternity later with a couple of bruises and ice-cold feet. That’s when I knew the white blanket on the hills looks great in pictures, almost like a fairytale but when you have to experience it regularly, it becomes a nuisance very soon.
I had the privilege to re-locate to a comparatively warmer region within the state. Read ‘warmer’ not sunny beach weather. But again, to continue to live here is a choice; one that I opt for daily.
Living here can be extremely lonely. You are forced with the silence to face your own thoughts, your inhibitions, your fears, and there is hardly any escape. Either you succumb to their pressure or you rise above like pure phoenixes. I would believe till now, I’m the latter but I’ll underestimate the majesty of these mountains if I would say the other could never happen.
Respecting the mountains comes with the territory of belonging here. Whether its walking for miles to find food or staying up for nights in bone biting cold or even just giving up on the basic luxuries, the mountains need to know you deserve them.
Then slowly and surely you will get the sunsets that will stir up your soul. You’ll meet rivers that’ll wash away your troubles. You’ll meet people who will feel like home.
So the next time you think you want a cottage in the hills where you wake up to breathtaking views know that it comes with a hefty price.
For the mountains are calling and you must go – only if you are ready for the call to have disturbances too.
Written by Japleen Kaur
An old school Millennial living in the hills (for now) forever finding the little things to find joy in. I get excited about washi tapes, brown paper packages, a nicely scented candle and all things Christmas. Throwing confetti around is my profession which keeps company to my love affair with typewriting letters. I survive on coffee and weave stories from my ever flowing imagination.
Week 43, October ’20
