The Desirable

                       Nandadevi in the setting sun from Auli

Perhaps it is quite a matter of going overboard with our feelings and ruing the luck that was not our companion in some matters that are mundane, but at the same time that we can never revisit if missed out. And we, in our middle age regret with uncontrolled difficulty. Then we gather and decide, ‘well the others who follow me, my children should not stumble on to the same desolate plateau’.

Let me be more candid. I mentioned in a few blog posts the misfortune I had vis-à-vis the relationship with my father. I remember having not felt or cared-I missed out on him when he was alive, when even we had those showdowns and the autocracy he wielded only added to the distance, the chasm, the gap. But the depth of the loss of having missed out on a vital aspect of human relationship began haunting me, more when well into my later forties, (I suppose it was also his case later in his life as well). And then when the sudden gust of wind hits you, the rush of intense damp air – the realization that, well you have now reached a phase in life from where the downhill journey will begin in man’s ephemeral life span and you got to do something different for your kids.

So I always wanted to provide my children, especially my son things and moments that eluded my grasp while I grew up. Most of all the closeness to the father! He was quite a temperamental fellow, critical than the mould I’m, even while he was little and also in early teens. And taciturn too like me.

 I decided to go on a travel with him. And it was the summer vacation in May five years ago. He was 15 then and just finished his ICSE 10th exams. The moments are so vivid in me. He was back home and I planned the journey to the Himalayas- Kedarnath  and Bhadari, (inspired by Balcahandran,). I felt a trip with him to a new part of India would be a learning experience for the boy and a soulful of gratification to me – experiencing the pleasure in a reverse way. I mean giving something I could not get.

He was initially bit reluctant .But once we boarded the flight from Coimbatore to New Delhi, he became quite at ease. We stayed in New Delhi overnight and took the early morning Shathabdhi to Haridwar. It was the second time he was in New Delhi. A few years prior four of us (I, C and the two kids) together, made a triangle tour of Agra, Jaipur and New Delhi in winter. It was good experience for the kids.

 Haridwar was quite warm and sweltering in the May heat. For the boy it was the beginning of a dawn of realization, something he did not imagine. A kind of cultural shock, a bolt. The dirt, the human excreta by the sides of the road, the muck,  disease and the penury, the dust all-around when we got off the train and walked to the bus station nearby to go to Rishikesh! He became silent and gloomy, quite perplexed! We checked in at the Rishikesh  tourist lodge and went out in the late afternoon for a stroll down the Ganga and the joolas.  There were lepers and ailing people waiting all around begging for alms. All that, I suppose made the little fellow very distressed that he refused to walk further and wanted to go back. I cajoled him to the ghat by the mighty river Ganga. He always trailed behind very irritated and kept saying we go back home. Then, the argument began by the Ganga. He just walked away from me. I could not leave him. He frowned and fumed and wanted to know why I was following him. I felt miserable very miserable! I sat by the ghat on the steps and I could still remember me crying, the ache in me. A dream was turning sour! Or was it?  I noticed suddenly that he was missing for a while. I got panicky and ran around frantically and utterly distressed and at last found him sitting elsewhere further down by the ghats.

I felt that I might have to cancel the trip and get back to Delhi. I spoke to C that evening to tell her A was upset about the whole thing. She suggested I change plans and travel elsewhere with him, where he wanted or even get back home. I asked him what he wanted. He refused to answer. That night he slept without eating. Next morning, we had to take the bus well before dawn to Gowrikund. At three in the morning I coaxed him out of bed. He was still moody and till almost half of the nine hour journey he was not in his elements. Then, just as the fickle weather in the Himalayan heights he changed, became different and a child hanging one me, enjoying the journey.

                                       En route to Kedhar

We had very good moments that evening in Gowrikund, a tiny mountain hamlet. To make matters rather unpredictable again, I suddenly began to feel chill and feverish. It seemed I   was going to be stricken with fever. Fortunately, the next morning I was feeling fine. He was first to wake and arise the next morning at 4 ’o clock and we set off on the long climb of 17 kms to Kedarnath. It was a fascinating journey. Of course both of us were not at ease with the undisciplined pilgrims and their cacophony. They were missing the mountains and with it their Gods! We drank from the mountain streams, ate chocolates for energy and had a few encounters with Sadhus smoking bhang and marijuana in their rock lair by the way side. I wished I could borrow their smoking chillums! It took us almost 9 hours to walk the serpentine climb.

                                            The peak at Kedhar

When Kedhar welcomed us with its snowy shining peaks he was thrilled. I enjoyed his happiness. We went around the town. The temple were they have faithfully incarcerated Lord Kedhanath  was too crowded. I wondered how God can be comfortable in that melee and the unrelenting petitions and lobbying from pilgrims and devotees. We were fascinated how he would handle his misery. I suppose he vanished from the shrine long ago and moved further up into the inaccessible snow clad, wind Cold Mountain. Far from his maddening devotees. It was six in the evening and was fast getting dark. We devoured a good meal of rotti, dal fry and sabji. Now either we hang around the night and try our luck of getting space to sleep or must descend. But it was not so wise either way and a storm was gathering. It was going to be risky walking back in the dark. We fixed a deal with two ghardwali  men and for Rs 500 per head they agreed to give us two mules for the downhill journey. A, enjoyed the precarious ride on the mule in the heavy rain and over the tricky terrain. I was hollering the hell out in panic. And A was smiling and laughing, all the while enjoying the ride on the mule. The mule-men were irritated with my moaning and were laughing amongst themselves at my precarious perch on the mule. One said to the other, “ye ladka teekk hai. Wow admi pagal”.And one said, certainly not thoughtful of my knowledge of Hindi, “Arey, chillana math”.

We reached back at Gowrikund by eight at night.  A, asked me why I was throwing tantrums all the way down and shouting like a kid. He was laughing at the comedy that I was, on the journey on the mule.

I felt immensely happy that he was enjoying the travel, the togetherness at last!

Next morning we traveled by bus and broke journey at the ski resort of Auli where we stayed for a couple of days .Being the height of summer and the absence of snow was indeed disappointing.  We went to Bhadarinath from  Auli , before coming back to camp at Joshi Math and then traveled back to New Delhi. There were quite a few moments to cherish for both, ordeals as well!

                                              At Auli a moment

He now wants to redo the tour with me. I jestfully tell him, “not me anymore with you”. Now he has grown out of teens, he is twenty and went with a couple of friends of his to a remote mountain side in Utarakand. They even went to Rishikesh and set off on white water river rafting. And elsewhere near Kasol, even were caught unawares in a hailstorm in the forest. They lost their way and spent the night in the forest. He travelled second class “two way’’ from Thpuram. A fifty two hour journey one way and he wanted it so .Journey in second class (cattle class) on Indian Rail is the surest way of understanding, knowing the throb of India. He understood quite a bit of what life in India is all about and he has many more miles to go to understand much. That it is not the comparative cocoon of comfort and security that some children like he is fortunate to have.

He wants to plan another trip up north soon. He has begun to enjoy moments that eluded me while I was his age! I guess, at long last, I could also give something I could not experience, feel or enjoy!