It took me more than 48 hours to reach here. The journey kept my back bone question the very point of its existence. I travelled across borders to another country without a passport. It was just the wind in my hair and my Royal Enfield. The blood rush in my veins made my brain do strange things; spontaneous interactions with people and unexpected voyages made this journey eventful. The journey ended at 4.30 A.M, in a dark yet crowded bus station at Kathmandu. I finally reached Nepal.
Nepal welcomed me with hot tea and freezing temperatures. The next days were going to be beautiful, no matter where I go I asserted to myself. I’ve always believed that our minds are canvases and we stroke our paint brushes the way we feel like. My paint brush was ready.
Thamel, is the place where I brushed my teeth, looked into the mirror, smiled at myself, bathed and resided my bags every day. Thamel was the hub of the partly cosmopolitan city of Kathmandu. This place never slept. It had everything. Food joints, live music, people from all across the world, prostitutes, the lanes that make you want to follow it’s every step, more food joints, and the city lights that you see only in movies. Thamel was a place where the memories of the world resided. There was so much life, I had to cut down on my sleep to be a part of it.
Nagarkot was a place which was known for its sunset, but most importantly the sunrise. One fine day I set sail to catch the sunset, but I was late to leave. While I was travelling and I was half way across Nagarkot, the sun slowly started giving up on me. I took a break to look at the breathtaking view along the way. I told myself “I am lucky to be here. To be seeing this wonder”. Finally, Nagarkot welcomed me, but the sun didn’t.
I was in Nepal. I was there, right there. My hotel was cosy, but in spite of the spacious room, a bonfire right next to the hotel caught my attention. A group of people were having a conversation; I could see diversity there. Wearing nothing but casuals on that cold night, I rushed to the burning wood. People from England, Netherlands, New Zealand, Germany and a few from the native of Nepal welcomed me to complete the circle. Simple conversations have so much energy in them. You get high on it sometimes. We talked for hours. It was amazing. We promised to meet each other at 5 in the morning to trek towards the sunrise spot. Everything was set.
The clock struck 5.45. It was late. I only had 30 minutes until sunrise. The trek was at least an hour. Panic struck the camp. We started the walk but slowly but surely everybody knew that we couldn’t make it. A nostalgic Maruti 800 approached us. We asked him for a ride. He said “700 rupaya hoga”. We were taken aback, yet we tried pleading him to cut the cost. He was adamant. Time was looking down upon us and grinning at us. We hopped into the car nonetheless.
I was finally there. The place was beautiful. I was at a very high altitude. The tea shop was the first one I approached. I could see the world’s second highest peak, K2 from there. The sun did not rise yet. I made it on time for once. My Camera was arranged to take a time lapse of the sunrise. People gathered across the fences as everybody waited for the sky to turn orange.
Half an hour went by; the sun was nowhere to be seen. Clouds covered the whole valley. The sun never rose until another hour, I was still looking at something magnificent. The phrase “It’s the journey that matters, not the destination” could not have been any more justified. I never expected any of this to happen, probably that’s why my memories will never call for an eraser. . I felt alive and at that moment it was all that mattered.