Travelling Zhemgang Blues


Travelling always save my soul from drenching in the sea of remorse whose depth invariably grows with the sense of nothingness that the days in the office foster. Likewise was the tour to Samdrup Jongkhar in the fall of 2018. After travelling many a roads, some a smooth sail in the carpet of asphalt while others – a rickety ordeal for my prematurely aging back muscles. We started the journey at 7 am when Pangbang was still shrouded in the chill of the night and the heat, felt on afternoon the previous day seemed like an inconceivable concept. The road was smooth and I enjoyed every bit of the exhibit that the nature had to offer.

After reaching Tingtibi, we refused the offer of lunch because 11:30 am was too “early” an hour for lunch according to the senior with whom I was travelling. Of course, this was to be proved wrong later when the drive to Tamala (towards Gelephu) and journey back spanned more than 3 hours and there were no hotels in between.

Due to road block at Ossey, this particular road was completely empty and the misty air of the terrain added to the haunting outlook that the absence of vehicles offered. I wasn’t enjoying the journey. The terrain really wasn’t gilded in the gold of autumn as you would have expected. It was rather a transition from the lush green of the summer to a dull green with a hint of grey whose effect was enhanced in the misty mountain air. This place was at a higher altitude than Pangbang and perhaps the air foreshadowed the arrival of the cold winter in the North.
Tamala, Zhemgang Gelephu Highway, Tingtibi, Pangbang,

So I let my eyes run through the dullness of the trees, bored and unimpressed from what I was seeing. To add to the ordeal, my brain cells began to signal the plight of my stomach which protested that it had to be filled. Just as I was beginning to feel that this was the worst journey of the tour, my eyes ran across what was going to be the saving grace of the drive and whose memories, the highlight of the whole tour.

Now I have always been troubled with the concept of god and his existence. As much as I want to believe in his existence, the literature that I have pursued till the date of this writing has always said otherwise. Science has indeed explained many a phenomenon and continues to explore many more but there can only be so much it can explain. While it may uncover the mysteries in many years to come, for the limitations that it holds today, the god might as well be the thing we stick to.

So I believe that it was the god who felt the ordeal, my soul was going through with the unpleasing terrain and an upset stomach, and unveiled before me the pink blossoms on the wild trees which sprang from the rock surfaces. These blossoms were a thing of the spring season and to see them amidst the dull grey of the drying foliage and dead trees was something out of a book of divine anecdotes. These trees were scattered and did not grow in groups like the others did. They radiated in the brightness of the hue which pierced the grey of the terrain and silver of the mist. With the slight moment of happiness which was as fleeting as any other moments of happiness, it instilled a sense of hope and independence.

The rest of the journey was not so miserable from that moment on. Of course, the hunger persisted and the view went back to dull green after that short stretch. And few days later, as we headed towards Trongsa, on our way to Thimphu, you could see many such trees covered in pink blossoms. They didn’t seem as rare a sighting as I had assumed in the beginning.  Nonetheless, that particular moment when they helped me see through the despairing dullness in the middle of nowhere, they were nothing short of the divine intervention.

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