Climbing Mountains

Can you really write anything new about the mountains after Ruskin Bond? That man, God bless his soul, has written about the experience of being amidst the mountains so vividly and perfectly that there’s nothing more one can add. Still, we plod on.

Much has been said about the romance and sense of grandeur of climbing mountains. There’s a sense of pure awe when you trudge along a mountain - slow, step after step. This is land that rose through huge tectonic plates clashing with immense force - heaven would have shook. And then, for an act so violent and deafeningly loud to produce something so calm…and still. The mountains don’t do anything much. They simply exist. Yet, that existence has evolved to evoke a symbol of peace and eternity. Indeed, one can’t often throw out ‘majestic’ to describe anything.

I’ve been fortunate to be a part of a Himalayan trek and walk through some of the oldest mountain ranges in India. I was extremely lucky to see Everest, in all its glory, on a bright afternoon on this journey. Seeing it was nothing short of a spiritual experience, an indescribable event.

I’ll end this with Ruskin Bond on mountains - ‘It is always the same with mountains. Once you have lived with them for any length of time, you belong to them. There is no escape.“ I know this to be fact.

 
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