Analogikal

It’s early morning in the sloping hills of the Western Ghats. Nestled deep within Harison Malayalam’s tea plantation is Munnar and Suryanelli’s best kept secret. I just woke up in the top bunk at Tentgram’s traveller’s hostel. It’s just getting bright outside. I wake up to the ambient conspiracies of birds in the vicinity and temple rituals in the distance. I take a few quick breaths. My nostrils seem to have acclimatised to the altitude and air quality. The air is crisp and is devoid of any scent. I’d like to wake up to this every day. A city dweller’s pipe dream, I whisper to myself. My knees feel sore from all the hiking from the day before. The bon-fire and bonhomie of my gracious hosts had instilled a false sense of time the night before. Morning is here, though.

I climb down the ladder of my bunk bed. My feet touch the cold mosaic floor and I feel the immediate need to crawl back into the warm, protective womb of my quilt. 6:30 am, my watch says. I only have an hour left. Good things seldom wait for you. When you find something worth chasing, by all means, be obsessed. I quickly change into my running gear and take a few quick sips of water. My system feels like the mould on the periphery wall after the first rains. I set out.

The air is frigid. It takes only a few minutes for all my digits to crawl as close to my body as possible. My knees feel the stinging cold beneath my running shorts. I quickly divert my attention by recalling the sunset last evening. For a short while there, I had forgotten how majestic sunsets can be. The sky seemed like a french blue chiffon fabric layered with the the most gorgeous hues of cantaloupe and abalone. Everything on the horizon laid out like a unified background with everything else dressed in different shades of silhouettes. A waft of cold breeze hits the tip of my nose breaking the day dream. What lies immediately ahead of me is nothing short of magnificent. I take one step and then another through the weaving path that splits the tea estate.

The first 10 minutes is always the hardest. The body does not want to move and the eyes struggle to find something motivating enough to keep the feet moving forward. The first sight of flowing water and the rolling sound of water over rocks, moulded and softened by ages of friction; a much needed shot in the arm. Like the scent of appetisers informing the taste buds and the bowel about the upcoming treat, this stream preps my system for the healing power of nature that awaits me. By now, the climb is slowly getting steep and I pass the tea factory, the final recognisable manmade structure for a while. I approach a clearing.

Ahead of me lies the peaks that protect the tea plantation and the people who inhabit it. The sun has slowly started peeking out. The timing is just right. As I enter the first clearing, the first peak is lit brightly. The rock face glistening in the glorious early morning light. I am taken back to a passage from Circe. Helios, the Sun god, burns a pile of wood to ashes as a show of the least of his powers. Lighting up this hill-side in the golden hues is a demanding task and I have to appreciate the soft dexterity and the precision with which the sun is operating. I have two more peaks in front of me. I have to make it to my destination before the sun is done illuminating them both.

I weave through the winding road with Thom Yorke’s sweet and sullen voice. I remember cold, lonely mornings during the lockdown listening to Radiohead on an infinite loop. This is a different time and a different place. I am grateful for the road travelled in time and, right now, in space. I approach the next clearing. Still no sign of my shadow. The tea estate in all its glory is laid out in front of me. I wasn’t going to mourn the loss of a forest that led to this manicured piece of land. I am just grateful for what is in front of me. I have realised the strategy works at so many levels. The shades of the leaves contrasting each other in the early morning light. At times a gentle breeze flutters a few leaves, waking me up from what is a captivating still image. The rare bird or squirrel breaks the stillness of the scenery. I am grateful for them.

I turn around and look. I can see the second peak being fully lit. I do not have much time. I start walking towards the spot in the trail where I want to be when the sun comes over the peak. I pick up the pace, my knees feel the effort. My breathing is laboured. The realisation dawns on me that I am chasing the sun. I decide to slow down. I don’t need the chase today. I can let the sun have this one. I slow down my pace. Slow enough to notice the butterflies, the squirrels and the caterpillars dressed to blend in with the moss growing on trees. I can see my destination. I take a deep breath and let a smile break as I see my shadow in front of me. I claim that spot as my destination. I find a spot on the side of the trail, next to a few tea plants. I open my shoes and let my feet take in the sun. I let my toes breathe. With the sun slowly toasting my face and my legs, I lie down on what is soon to become a warm rock.

Helios is kind to me today. So am I. A friend once asked me if I am grateful. I responded ‘I like to believe so’. I have a sun kissed down-hill hike and a warm cup of tea, at the end of it, waiting for me. I am grateful for both those things. For now, that’s enough.

Till next time.