Yesterday’s travel had left us weary and drowsy, but our spirits were high as ever. For today, we had planned a morning trek at a nearby hillock. So, we set out after breakfast with our backpacks, filled with water, food, cameras and a few warm clothes.
If God was an artist, Oonad was his masterpiece. A hill station situated at 6 hours drive from Mylapur, this was an ideal locale to forget our miserable worlds and find serenity in nature at its finest form. The view from our hotel was magnificent. Mist capped mountain ranges beckoned the brave, while serenading waterfalls across the mountains robed them in pristine beauty. On one hand there were green pastures that stretched out into kilometers of land, and on the other ragged trod paths invitingly lay in wait for adventurers, promising them unfelt thrills.
We set out on a path suggested by our hotel manager, which started a few hundred meters from the hotel. The trek was something we all looked forward to ever since its idea was announced, and therefore, no one complained of the freezing cold, or the lack of good sleep. As we made our way through small huts on the trek path, we spoke about the beautiful local dames who passed us every now and then. I tried to keep my mind on the trek, considering the fact that every dame I have seen, for a few months now, has reminded me of Maya. We planned a pit-stop for every half an hour of trek, and considering that it was a 3 hour trek, we had a long way up.
Slowly and steadily, our breaths started getting heavier, partly due to exhaustion and partly due to the thin air. It was therefore, no surprise that Rags started screaming “There is a God! There is a God!” when we spotted a tea stall nearly about 2 hours up into the trek. This being a trek route used frequently by tourists and trekkers, an enterprising Oonadian had set up a decent tea stall up here. We relaxed at this stall for quite some time, feeding on the local veggie burgers and biscuits with a big glass of ginger tea. There is nothing better for the limbs on a cold trek like this. With each gulp of tea, we felt warm bits of life trickling into our extremities. After stretching a little, and grabbing a few veggie burgers ‘for the road’, we began our last hour of trek. This shop was the last sign of civilization on this trek route, so we made sure that we were well stocked up and mentally prepared for what lay ahead of us.
There are times when a man realizes what he’s made of. This, as we painstakingly found out, was one of them. The last hour of trek made us pant and puff all the way up the hills. The rocks were getting slippery; there was no clear path for us to follow as we made our own way up the track. There were some grumbles about whose brilliant idea it was to put a 3 hour trek on a vacation that is supposed to help us relax, but they died down soon, probably due to exhaustion and futility.
After what seemed like eternity, we had reached the topmost point, rightly called Palintop. We unpacked some our cameras and set out snapping. Akki and I are both photo enthusiasts. While he was a people person and tried to put people in every photo possible, I was more of a nature freak and avoided any people in my photos. In the end though, we would always have a good compilation of shots from both our cameras. I moved a little away from the group, following the mist that had moved towards the east. I wanted a few scenic shots with the mist as the foreground and the high surrounding ranges in the back.
My enthusiasm has always had the better of me, and this was a not-so-gentle reminder of that. Standing on a ledge trying to get a few shots for a panorama, I slipped violently, going headfirst onto the cliff facing the ledge, dropping the camera at the ledge. It was uncontrollable, I could not hold onto anything, and I could see the deep gorge below me. I was slipping down the cliff with a gut feeling that this was certain death; I was going to fall into the gorge and shatter into a few hundred pieces in a few seconds.
As I slipped, at one edge of the slope I saw a crevice, from which a short shrub had grown. I impulsively grabbed onto the shrub with every ounce of strength in me. Unfortunately for me, the shrub had thorns on its stem, and I could feel the searing pain though my fingers. I held on with all my might, braving the pain for as long as I could. My only hope was that my friends would find my camera at the ledge and bring help for me.
The thorns in the shrub had begun to sap my strength, and I was slipping fast. I wanted to give up. I mean, wouldn’t it simply be easier if I just died? It’s not suicide; at least no one else will think so. My problems, my current position could all be done away with in one blow. My parents- well, that’s something to think about. They’ll cry and mourn for a few days, but they have Dave. He’s their perfect son – he’s obedient, God-fearing, employed and not a total screw-up like me. What else? What am I missing here? My friends- they won’t miss me much either, their work will keep them too busy for that. Maya- as if she’d miss me. Maybe she will, maybe this can be a reminder to her for losing out on a guy like me. Letting go right now is the easiest thing to do. The gorge must be nearly a hundred feet deep, death is almost a certainty with a drop from here.
My thoughts seemed to signal my body likewise, because the more I thought about letting go, I could feel my hands slipping and tearing against the shrub. I knew it was only a matter of time now, no matter what my decision was.
“I don’t want to die,” I told myself “not like this. Not as a failure. I’ve been through a lot, and I am not letting all that pain go waste. I want to survive. I want this to be the new beginning, the new life I was looking for. Help me God; I want to make it through today. I will succeed, and make more of myself than people expect of me. I will prove all my critics wrong. I need your help God. Please”
I have never felt a divine experience in my entire life, and this I did not know if this was one; but right that moment, I felt warm and wonderful. Even at this place, hanging for my life by means of a shrub that was eating away at my hands, I suddenly felt a surge of strength within me. I looked around for anything I can use or hang onto; anything that could save my life. Suddenly, I heard an unfamiliar voice call out to me.
“Hello there. Just hang on. I’ll come and get you, but just hang on tight.”
I have never been happier on hearing a human voice; ever.
“Okay. I’ll hang on.” I called back. It was not like I could do anything else.
I could not see the man who called out to me, but I could hear sounds of clanking tools. He was probably hammering a rig to pull me up. I looked up in anticipation, and heard the sound of boots against the rocky slope. Slowly and steadily, a man reached me and extended his hand. He was not very old, but there were random streaks of grey hair on his head. What set this man apart from many other men his age was his eyes. I could not help but notice the gleam of wisdom and content beaming from his eyes. It was like an encounter with a Buddhist monk crossed with James Bond.
“Buddy, you ready to go?” he asked me, seeing that I did not reach for his extended hand.
“My hands… they’re bruised… I can’t hold on much longer.” I mumbled.
“Okay, just relax. I’m going to tie this rope around your waist, and we’ll get out of here. Have you ever done rock climbing before?”
“No”
“It’s okay. I’ll lead, you follow. We’ll go slowly; step by step. Okay?”
“Okay.”
I watched as the man led his way up the rocks, hammering pegs onto rock crevices and tying my rope onto them. He spoke to me gently, guiding me on how to grip a crevice and how to move from one point to another. I climbed up gingerly; my hands were on fire, but somehow, there was a surge of strength from within me. I found myself neglecting my pain, and simply pushing myself to the limits of tolerance. He reached the ledge first and helped me as I climbed across. I collapsed at the ledge due to exhaustion.
“You’re quite strong, kid. I didn’t really think you could make it all the way up.” he said.
I looked up, too tired to say anything smart.
“Are you feeling ok? I’m Ketan Dev, by the way. Let’s have a look at your hands” he said, removing a first aid kit from his bag.
He cleaned the wounds with some antiseptic and started bandaging my hands. I looked up and saw him again; his face seemed so familiar before. Oh, my God! It is him!
…
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