Do not go to McLeod Ganj and Triund!

You are at the mountain top. Darkness beyond sunset has crept over the land. Streaks of dim light escape from the camping tents near you. Icy cold wind is nailing your body. Behemoth clouds are gunning down the horizon with their thunderbolts. There is ultraviolence in the air. Your pale shadow from half-burnt bulbs is shivering. Snow clad neighboring mountains stand taller and colder than you. Now live this experience with your mates and you will experience a dark night at Triund. Do not go to Triund.

You are at your workplace. The clicks of computer keyboards play a faster symphony than your imagination. Projects and assignments have formed skyscrapers on your mental farmland. Stuck in its gate is a board which reads “Creativity will be prosecuted”. Monotonous routine is drilled deep into your blood that you feel even the mosquitoes call you by your name. Your thoughts cannot get past the lowest common denominator. You trap others in your own confinement. You are experiencing a (capitalist) world of slavery. Please, stay there.

You get a call from your friend at 7 am to pack your bags and go for a trip together to a lush land of cold mountains. You will get over with college in a month. Your comrades and you will wander off to career oriented paths. Your time is running out. You reach the railway station and head off to a journey marked by humorous vices and overcrowded stories at the train box. You book a cab and stare at birds chirping a welcome song as the altitude gets higher. Air gets purer and your mind oozes heavy doses of tranquility. You are at the threshold of the Tibetan exile capital of India. Do not pick up that call.

You wander off to the market of McLeod Ganj. Your eyes see a neat fashion statement. Streets are lined with ornaments, food and an adventure of travel. What you actually see is freshly brewed freedom served with a calling of the wild being sold for free. Your taste buds are not working alone when you are eating breakfast at a café. Your ears also have to listen to the elemental music of divine Buddhist mantras. You relax at the balcony of your hotel room. The aroma of coffee does not pass through smog inflicted air. You binge watch tails of spectre clouds continually floating across a reddish moon. You are awestruck with that haunting beauty. Do not experience nights where your pupils dilate and hesitate to flatten.

You want to trek the 9 km long path of Triund. The sole of your feet longs to kiss the land of a distant dream. Your budget appears to stalemate that longing. You buy the calling of the wild from the streets and checkmate the king of monetary shortage. You begin to trek a path whose boundary is marked by the trees of rhododendron (Buraansh). You are walking in the middle of woods showering red flowers. Your eyes watch the scenery in pixels which your DSLR fails to shoot and hear the notes floating in alfresco air which your phone’s playlist fails to match. Clouds darken the sky in a flash of time and rain begins to wash your skin from the stench of the sweat of plains in a way that face wash products still cannot. Hailstorm replaces the rain and you feel your heart pumping blood like never before. You sit at a café and watch balls of ice hitting the façade of classist travelers and filtering them down to mere humans. Do not plan to trek the path of Triund.

You have reached the summit and you are motionless. Your jaw has dropped down to the abyss of wonder. Your feet have not failed you. You do not see anymore but feel. You are feeling the existence of the gigantic range of snow clad Dhauladhar range behind your camping site. Your eyes are moist. You are feeling your existence under grey clouds. You eat plain food and have some tasty laughs with your mates, while mother Earth provides an ambience of thunder and purple lightning. Your clothing is not warm enough and you are sleeping the night, best defined by the bard’s words- “sweet are the uses of adversity”. In the midst of the freezing night, you are losing your external self. You realize that even the sky is external; for the Sun is forever in your mind. Do not camp where your body feels comfortably numb.

You wake up to a sunny morning. You have the urge to look at a mirror and gaze at the body vibrating at the frequency of unparalleled love. In a list of your most beloved things, you have finally climbed up to the number one position. The dog sitting next to you agrees on that. You bask in the sun. You photograph different lives posing a new sense of meaning, they secretly feel from within. You trek down with your four college buddies who have lived the same experience. You pack McLeod Ganj and Triund in the bag of your heart and leave for the place where henceforward you will wear the shield of freedom against the attack of monotonous monetary routine. Do not wake up to a sunny morning at Triund.

I repeat, do not go to McLeod Ganj and Triund!