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.
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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