Rebeccus Farcis

Rebeccus Farcis means "Have Fun", in err.. the yet to be discovered Martian.

A Himalayan Intoxication – Part 2

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“If only people looked more at the mountains, they would realize how truly insignificant they are.” – With sincere apologies to Bill Watterson and his philosopher character, Calvin.

It all started the same way. A little known airport in a remote corner in the country. A long drive on dilapidated roads along the Sindhu/Jhelum Teesta, and a few pairs of enchanted eyes captivated by the mountains. The Himalayas beckoned the self again; and, as always, they can mesmerise you, anywhere.

I can perhaps write an epic on how we trekked, how we camped or how we stared at the stars that adorned the night sky. I can also perhaps write another epic on how we snuggled into the tents come nightfall, or how we all crammed into a tent, tea cups in hand and chatted all afternoon. I can also perhaps write an epic on how gifted Parth is, or how a certain Shweta could match him note for note. I can definitely write an epic on how lively the locals can get; the kitchen staff and yak-men, given an opportunity.

But, I won’t.

I can also perhaps write an epic on how we waded through thick jungles; how we walked through dense canopy and slimy slush; just how we slept with leeches and centipedes. I can also write on how we hopped over slippery stones, or how we crossed gushing streams; how we fought hunger and sleep, just so that we could see the first sunrays reflect off the Kanchenjunga. I can also write on how we walked in 3 feet of snow, or under an energy sapping sunlight; just how we walked through bitter cold (-12 C) under a starlit sky in the dead of the night. How we saw the sun set over the mountains, or how we thanked him for appearing from within the clouds. I could write on how the icy streams and cold winds would freeze us; how the lack of oxygen hallucinated us, or how we walked on thin ice, quite literally.

But, I won’t.

Then what will I write about? The people.

This trek was all about the people. My comrades in arms – brothers Shreesha and Shashanka. Praveen sir, Doctor and their team, who at 45, have to be the youngest youngsters one can meet. Abhijeet, Tapolina and Adrish, Saurabh and his Bongs; and the charming triumvirate of Shraddha, Tejaswi and Padmaja. The slightly acerbic but delightfully sweet Shweta. From Bir Kumar, whose footsteps we followed (again, literally, on thin ice), to matching footsteps with the colossal Mr. Hauser (a different post on him to follow). From the trance of Vasudha, to the effervescence of the crew. It sure was a set of passionate people, for who passion never dies. Not even when you are 52, or when you perform half a dozen open heart cardiac surgeries a day, every day.

Words, mes amis, can express my indebtness to this group only so much. These past few days spent travelling with you, ladies and gentlemen, to me, has been a privilege. Thank you!

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Written by Srinivas

October 9, 2014 at 3:43 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

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