Ever since I started reading, I have been growing up in fairy tales. When I grew older, I started framing my own tales of fairy lands. Fairy tales filled with adventures, magical creatures with a loved to whom you can talk all your heart out, because nature leaves you so pure. I thought I could make one true for myself, so I tried.
The trek promised lush green valleys, breathtaking views in pure solitude, exactly what I had wished for. I was excited, thrilled of being able to be a part of nature’s beauty along with a friend of mine who shared my adrenaline rush. And so, it began.
At 9,000 feet into the Himalayas, the heaven didn’t seem far away. All I could hear was crows singing in the rain with little chirps of tiny birds here and there. All accompanied by drizzling rain, adding in the romance of walking in the woods.
I walked and walked, soaking all in, breathless due to the steep trail but reminding myself why I came. I enjoyed the solitude gushing in from the excitement of ‘what next’.
At 12,000 feet my stamina gave in and I craved, not only for oxygen but for company. Trained as my friend was, she had her feet far ahead in the hiking group. Falling behind, I realized how eager and dependent I was for company. A gush of sorrow ran in. My fairy tale had green valleys, beautiful white horses, creamy woolly sheep but I never knew a deep conversation with someone was integral to it. The nature marvelled my senses but at the same time brought an urge to share my happiness. Where I thought nature would be my sole companion (because I was proud of my friend’s independence), I had misunderstood myself.
All was in place, but no one to hear my shallow breath while I was solely pushing myself forward. The valleys had laid themselves bear before me, but I didn’t have the time to sit and soak them in, for I had to walk and walk to pace up with 23 others that were before me.
At 14,000 feet I completed the summit, all the others were in ecstasy, but me. I had pushed myself to a place I could never have been, but I couldn’t feel any emotion other than pride. The pride stemmed out of walking drenched, fatigued, out of breath, broken and all alone, just to complete what I had started.
Yes, I realized this isn’t me. I need the valleys not to walk past, but to sit and marvel at their magnanimity and invincibility. I need time to be in the nature, but I need some one to share my thoughts while I feel them.
I realized I am not a lone ranger as I thought I would be, I am just a simple human who wants to be close to nature to love it, not to conquer it. Some one who needs quality time alone but craves a living soul nevertheless. One who seems fearless but is actually full of fear.