Summer is the hottest season, bringing the longest days and shortest nights. There are N number of reasons to disgust someone: unbearable heat, highly risen temperatures, shortage of water in most parts of the country, dried rivers, dusty roads, and restless nights. However, those who enjoy the season thoroughly are children, as they get the most extended holidays in school, more time for x-boxing, and can enjoy cold drinks, ice cream, etc. In the 90s, our childhood was a little different.
While enjoying summer vacation, one of the million reasons I am grateful to my parents for our pragmatic and sedate upbringing is that they ensured we did not forget our tradition and family values while growing up in a cluster of seven islands, full of a concrete jungle with high-rise towers, bollywood, and many other fascinating things – Mumbai.
We used to spend all our summer holidays at Bhirwande, our hometown, a significant contributor to keeping our family bound together. The place which brought us close to nature. Thanks to our great grandpa who built our home in the womb of life, surrounded by huge mountains and lush green carpets. We cousins, equivalent to a national cricket team under a roof, were never short of activities to keep us together, entertained, busy and learning new things. Hearing stories from our parents about their old, hard days was one of the exciting parts of our childhood.
It was fascinating that they used to climb and cross the mountain behind our home, walking for hours, sometimes barefoot, to reach another village due to lack of commute. Un-familiar with today’s stylish term, trekking, being done for sheer excitement, to get photographed and fit, we cousins (aged between 8 to 14 years) decided to climb that mountain and reach PATHAR (the highest point of that mountain). My dad and uncle agreed to lead the way in no time. It was surprising that our mother and aunts did not oppose our decision to climb the mountain, knowing it does not have a well-trodden path. The mountain has the presence of wildlife, and the chances of getting lost are high with the presence of human traces equal to nil.
On the other hand, they prepared Chutney Bhakri (conventional food in rural areas) to take along to kill our hunger on the way and Kokum Sharbat (a traditional cold drink) to keep us hydrated all day, as if they knew that we would cherish this experience for a lifetime.
We did that mountain climbing in regular slippers and normal clothes with full of excitement and supposition. Moving ahead in our directions the path hunting was in full of thorns and spikes; the pain was getting hid with excitement and enthusiasm. There were unexplainable moments of losing the group while beating our path. Anxiety and jitter were at a peak. Probably at that age, we weren’t even familiar with these expressions. With tripping and falling in those rough surface, we managed the summit of the peak, PATHAR with bruises on the body.
The satisfaction, joy, and feeling of achievement are hard to express in words. We were screaming our heads off for an improbable accomplishment. I remember lying on dusty surface carelessly and breathing fresh air in a trance. The cloudless blue blissful sky was staring at me, and dry grass was swaying in the breeze. We had forgotten what we went through to reach the summit. By now our heartbeats were reasonable, and we were ravenously hungry. Chutney Bhakri and Kokum Sharbat came to our rescue. A frugal meal was tasting heavenly in that own espoused celebration. We spent some time there while my dad and uncle sharing a few more past experiences from their treasure of memory.
Before it is too late, we gathered our belongings and started our journey to the home. Needless to say that we were tired as hell with unbearable body pain. Although aftereffects sound harsh, walk on that mountain taught me the most important lesson, “Journey is more enjoyable than the destination.”
Lessons learned: Life is all about these small moments with our dear ones. This mountain climbing was enough to realize that trekking is not just a fancy word. It is necessary to experience the rush of human feelings, to calm your soul and find an occasion to rejoice. I do not have trek photos to share as I was blessed not to have smartphones then, but those memories and mesmerizing beauty will be forever in my heart. I did a couple of treks later with friends. Each trek has its own charm and unique experiences. People say one is no longer the same post trekking, and I am here to confirm that. Indeed, one finds a different personality, more confident, fearless and humble.
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