Glory of Green
an unplanned walk through the forest, being satisfied with what we have, parrots and peace, beautiful humane stories, a travel book, and pictures from the Himalayas
Dear Reader,
Thank you for being here. I hope you’ve had a brilliant start to the week.
First things First. As I shared in the last letter, my FIRST BOOK is coming out. Still can’t believe it. Please stay tuned for the pre-order date. Publishing a book takes an unexpectedly long time, as I’m figuring out, but I’m going on in good faith, respecting the process. A big thank you to all those who emailed me to tell me they will love to read my book and are waiting for it. To those who are new here, a warm welcome. I wrote a long vain newsletter that I sent the last time and that has the story of what the book is about and how my seven-year writing journey has been. You can find the letter here: Bloom and the Big News.
Now here is a story that I wrote this Sunday but I’m only able to send it now.
So today I was in one of those moods that: I do not want to continue this trip and I wish I had a home. Being on the road for three four years hasn’t been easy. My partner and I who keep our things in the car and live and travel around India are feeling tired. Not from the past three months of trekking, hiking, and other incredible adventures we have been having in the Himalayas (Uttarakhand), but, in general, we are a little tired from the constant movement. Sometimes, we do crave a home. A place where we can cook, leave our things strewn around, and where we don’t have to talk to anyone. A space that is our own on this big, broad earth.
Now when our time in the Himalayas is coming to a close, and I think the trip could have ended a few weeks earlier and we could have been in a place, me publishing the book and my partner just being amazing, today I woke up with the feeling, “Oh, I have a space for today, but not for tomorrow.” Let me get to some work today. Let me send this newsletter. I didn’t want to even think about seeing around anything. We have just descended from the higher Himalayas into this city at the foothills, also in the mountainous state of Uttarakhand but unbelievably flat. Hotels here are expensive, there are more shops than needed, and traffic crawls.
I had woken up at 8 (still a little shocked by the flatness of the area), brushed and showered, packed some of our things to take them to the car so that we could have more space in this teeny-tiny overpriced room, and walked down to go out for breakfast. I wanted to eat, replace my partner’s broken phone, and return to work. All the while being weighed down by the room size. How will I write in this small room! I’ll have to do everything in bed. Yeah, there are no chairs, and only a little stool to sit upon apart from the double bed.
Why did we even take such a small room? Long story. But to cut it short, we browsed hotels online and made a list of the places we liked. Yesterday, after lunch, when we finally checked out this hotel, the first one from our list, it was already 2:30 pm, we didn’t want to drive to another hotel, and thought we would make this work. The bigger room was more expensive. So whether to drive away, keep looking, and spend even more time or take this and adjust. When I showed interest in the bigger room, my partner said, to my surprise, “I’m okay even with the smaller one.”
“Oh. Ok.”
We took the room for two days. Deal done. But I was repenting my decision last night. After a stroll out and some chores, when we got back to the room, we got into each other’s way and had an argument that perhaps could have been avoided if we had more space. I said, “I feel bad I gave in. I know more space makes life easy. Shouldn’t have taken this up. Why do people make such small rooms?” My partner looked at me sweetly, his eyes overflowing with compassion. Then we discussed how each of us thought the other one was okay with the small room. hah! Perhaps if we had just communicated more clearly.
So today morning, the idea of writing this newsletter that I need more than anyone else wasn’t sounding good. But I was hell bent on working. So when at the reception we were getting our water bottle filled and the owner asked what was our plan and we told him “just to roam around a bit” and he told us we could “go to a bird sanctuary forty minutes drive away and that it’s gorgeous and it is time for migratory birds and you can go easily and no one stops you” and then we could “have amazing lemon tea at this joint and then another forest we could visit in the evening,” I hated him. His eyes sparkled with the memories of these locations and as he spoke to us, he was overjoyed, as if every pore of him was reliving the experiences he had in those forests and as if he could feel the warmth of the sunlight and breathe the silence and drink that lemon tea. Then I told him, “We have given the keys for housekeeping to the staff.” And he replied, “No problem, you don’t have any valuables or anything, and that these are reliable guys…” I had to cut him out, “this wasn’t the concern but that we were thinking of coming back in one and a half hours or so.” Then when he said “don’t waste your time sitting in the hotel and go there you’ll have a great time and you wouldn’t want to come back and you’'ll really enjoy,” I didn’t say I have work to do, but I silently, yes, hated him again.
Though my partner and I might always seem on the move, we don’t always have to keep going around. There’s work to do. And serious work to do. I don’t just sit and write a few lines or do some other work over the phone that I can do from anywhere. It doesn’t matter that it’s a Sunday. I can’t put off work because I can just finish it before the Monday meeting. In this self-run life, Sunday is Monday and Monday is any other day. I have to send the newsletter.
My partner and I got out, the hosts’ words that we “didn’t have to sit in the hotel room”, echoing in my head. I didn’t exhale out loud but a weight was lifted off my chest. So no sitting in that congested room?
And then as we went to the car to keep the bags, I heard myself saying to my partner, “This bird sanctuary thing, how far did he say it is? Maybe it would be nice to go? Maybe we can go and then we don’t have to be in the room. I was so burdened by the thought of working in that room. It sounds so much nicer to be out and not here.” Meanwhile his face relaxed, and he was smiling and as expected, already saying, “Yeah. Let’s go. Come.” For him, Sunday was Sunday. We took the markers from the owner, and we were off.
After fifteen minutes through the city, we were driving through a deep forest that was as quiet as luscious. We reached the mentioned point, and as we saw a board for a 6-km walk to a temple and a jungle path curling beyond it, we didn’t think much. We parked our car, put all the water bottles we had into a shoulder bag, a bed sheet for picnic, and off we went. As soon as we set our feet on the trail and the forest officer had asked us why were we not taking our car and that wild animals can come out any minute (the path was drivable), and the green trees stood long and shining on both sides, I knew we had done the right thing. I didn’t know that I needed this walk, this solitary walk into the forest with no one but me and my partner.
After seeing the signboard for the walk, we had driven on, just to see what lay further ahead. My partner was driving on because I had told him I want to be on a long drive, having nowhere to go and not having to deal with or talk to anyone. He had said, “I know what you mean. Let’s do it. I also want to do the same.” But we had turned back in ten minutes and then we were on the trail and within few minutes realising that it was just us and the woods and the car and the bikers who would quickly pass by on the muddy uneven track, I said to my partner, “I got what I wanted. There’s no one around. Just this silence, this is what I need.”
He said he knew when he saw the marker that we would do the whole 6 km. We do longer distances climbing up so this was easy. But we started at 1:30 pm, and we had to be back by 5, when the sun sets. So we walked at a good pace, listening to the sounds of the jungle. A branch crackling there, a bird chirping here, some leaves rustling close by.
When I saw the first elephant dung, I shouldn’t have shown my partner. His ears pricked up and his face tightened. “It’s dry. At least a day or two old,” I quickly said. Either it was from the previous day or the day before. Now whosoever has gone into jungles with elephants knows that they don’t make much noise when they sense you, assume you are a threat, and come for you. That they don’t get scared by your presence but rather give you a warning that you need to leave their area. And that they easily run at 25 km per hour and can uproot most trees. We knew there is just no running away from an elephant if you are on foot and I could see this realisation on my partner’s face. But the dung was old. I told him to chill. A car sped by us and, a few minutes later, two bikes.
“And with all these cars and bikes? the elephants will want to stay away from this track, at least until the evening when they know humans leave.”
Evening is when the jungle returns to the animals.
So we had time. My partner’s air-sucked face calmed a little but unlike the times when I convince him for anything and everything and he lets go completely, he was still clenched up. It was about having his life, or not. I couldn’t complain.
Crunching the grass under my feet, listening to the forest sounds, hearing my breathing, having so much green and so much sunlight reflect from all this green that I knew I needed this, and I was thankful.
I was happy that the trip hadn’t ended with us rushing away from the mountain town of Nainital, a few hours away and from where we had arrived a day earlier. Weekenders had crowded it so much that more outsiders cars were seen than local ones, every spot was crowded, and even the ugliest hotel was charging more than INR 2000 (sufficiently enough for a good hotel room) for almost nothing in return. When we checked out a stinking room which depressed me, I had to tell my partner that we are ending this extended mountain trip and that we are getting down because I have no hope and “no, I am not just going to check in anywhere for a few days as you’re hoping to so we could see it all.” Those three to four hikes he had planned and boating in the Nainital lake, to the hell with all that.
So we found ourselves leaving the higher mountains, scenic lakes dirtied by plastic bottles and the charade of hotels, in the evening, while the sun was setting and it was getting colder every second. I was exhausted, the most I have been in a while. My partner handled the wheel, thankfully. Our leaving the mountains and entering this “plain” city was a matter of chance. We couldn’t see the last things we had planned to see and couldn’t relish the open view up to the horizon for just this one more time, knowing it was our last for a while. I couldn’t take that photo of the yellow-tailed parrot that I had been stalking for months and haven’t got yet.
But, today, this serendipitous walk could be a good closure to our time in the Himalayas, to the three months. Though we had driven down to the city in the dark and couldn’t see the beautiful woods we were passing, but as we drove back in that direction today, following our host’s recommendation, we saw that forest too. What a coincidence and good fortune that we went back that way and no other way and that we could see what we hadn’t seen! The universe is really on our side and whatever happens happens for good.
Now I am grateful for the extended time, not regretful, and I am happy we are still here and sort of everything I was frustrated about has taken a new meaning as if I have fresh energy for everything. I am looking at everything in a new light. Especially after seeing so much elephant dung on the path and after being rushed by the forest officers, “You two are on your own? Get going now. Walk well and don’t linger. It is time for the elephants to come out.”
Do you prefer the car or your own feet?
For this week’s letter,
Some of my writing,
quotes I love,
things to read,
things to watch,
and
travel tips.
Past Articles,
because we are talking about parrots
Celebrating My Childhood Parrot Mithu With Photos of Indian Parrots
Memories of the naughtiest parrot I have ever known and some stunning parrot pictures from recent years.
See the beautiful parrots now. Or Pocket them for later.
27 Hopeful Photos That Show Nature Defy Climate Change
Every moment of my life I wonder how we are even here. The perfection of it all fills me with unprecedented joy. All the big events we plan, prepare, and wait for — graduation, foreign trips, marriages, potlucks, get-togethers, movie nights — happen soon and finish. After all the merriment, we are left with the loneliness of our being. But if we would look around, smell the air, and sit in the grass we would see life oozing out of every grain of soil, stuck to the bark of a tree, or finding its way inside through the little gaps left in the window. Once we are with nature, we are never alone. Once we are ready to be charmed by this wellspring of magic — and it is armed with enough to dazzle us — we would not be bored or think that life is ordinary ever again.
Go to the essay and photos now. Or Pocket them for later.
Quotes I Love
“These, these are my bus,” An old friendly Himalayan woman said to us while pointing to her knees and then grinned. We were walking around in the village where we stayed for four months (in 2023), and she was heading back to her village after tending to her cows and fields which were in our village. It was 5 or 6 p.m., she did this every day, and she was, at least, sixty.
“People can do anything anytime.”
My mother
“You should carry your weight yourself.”
My father
“I put my peace over everything else. I choose to not care about what others do, to not lean in and listen to what doesn’t concern me. I, me before they, them.”
Yours Truly
What I’ve Been Reading
I’ve been reading short stories, books, articles, and so much more. I can’t possibly list all what I have read in the past week so I’m putting down the things I found most relevant and worthwhile.
Paris Friend by Shuang Xuetao: a story of hope, loss, and love. Beautiful read on friendship and family.
Axis by Alice Munro: an old story of love, regrets, and the things we do.
Heavy Snow by Han Kang: The story is of two friends and of one’s pets, but it is about everything. It is fully encompassing, unputdownable, and immensely enjoyable. It makes us hope, and though one might say it is a sad story, the spirits of the characters are so high you root for them all the way.
Minimum Payment Due by Said Sayrafiezadeh – A story on human limitation, our helplessness, and how we might need just one step to get out but do we step forward?
A travel book that I have been enjoying: Bedtime Adventure Stories for Grownups by Anna McNuff - I’ve picked up tens of travel books recently but this is the only one that I enjoyed. Anna narrates her extraordinary, unplanned adventures in such a vivacious way that you travel along with her, riding her bike, rollerblading, and laughing. This isn’t the usual travel book where a place is recommended or a particular method of travelling. The stories celebrate human life, this stunning world, and the extraordinary things we can do in it. Recommended!
What I’ve Been Watching/Listening
that’s worth mentioning
The movie Mom: Though it is a movie on sexual assault and explores other darker themes, so you’re more tensed than laughing, Mom is an incredible piece of cinema. The story is gripping, well-written, and intelligent. Most characters do justice to their part, but the character of Mom, played by the Indian actor Sridevi, is better than perfection. For me, it is a must watch.
And for all adventure lovers!
some more photos from the walk and a couple of other ones
Thank you for reading! I hope you have a lovely week ahead.
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Yours,
Priyanka
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