mihir

one more step. And another, and another.  I was comfortable on the first day, after 11.5kms of walking. That day though, a couple of others weren't feeling their most comfortable self. The guide, and a few others periodically checked on them. The second day, for me, went by a breeze as well, as I trekked 13.5km and through our first real ascent. We reached our campsite that afternoon, and I suddenly felt unlike anything I had experienced before. It was as if my body suddenly collapsed. I decided to lay down in the tent, but every passing minute felt longer than it should have. The weather that day was gloomy as well, so there was no respite in that regard. I don't know if a pleasant day would have made me feel any better, to be honest.  Our campsite was located on the backdrop of a lake, but was blocked by a small hill of stones. A five minute walk. Collectively, as a group, we rested for two hours, and then made our way towards the lake, beyond the stones. All I could think du

It's been seven days since I got back from Kashmir, nestled between valleys, mountains, and lakes alike. Untouched by civilization and commotion. Could have just said civilization. The acclimatization to higher altitudes was a slow, gradual, and peaceful one. It came as a passing breeze; it's presence was felt, warm and consistent. Unfortunately, the return has been a sudden one, where some of the vices I had stayed away from in those six days, have made their presence felt again. The use of Instagram being one of them. But before society takes over me completely, there are some things I need to pen down, so that they survive the test of time, independent of me falling prey to this jungle.  At the end of every one of those six trekking days, our trek leader would ask us what our highlight for that day was. On the penultimate day, the emotions were running high and deep, and everyone was crying in one form or the other, for a reason or more.  What was the highlight for me, I ask

I've visited Mumbai twice in the last month, for reasons starkly different, yet similar. But the backstory is for another time. Hopefully, there is another time. This time around, I decided to take a train from Pune, the 7:15AM Deccan Queen that people across generations have backed their livelihood on. I, on the other hand, was treating it as leisure, and was merely excited by the prospect of being in a train after years.  I had taken a flight the previous day, and thanks to the CrowdStrike fiasco, I spent a good nine-and-a-half-hours in transit. This, along with the early morning wake-up-call to catch the train, meant that I was on reserves. The train set afoot, and I slept, or rather tried to. But when have my sleeping instincts ever come in handy?  I accepted that my eyes would be open. Would I be awake, I didn't know yet. Initially, my eyes locked horns with the make-shift houses that were somehow still standing tall in this heavy downpour. The train soon caught speed, and