There was a time in my life,
When I climbed 2000 feet.
It was tiring and frustrating,
But I’m alive and still kicking.
The place was called Dzukou,
A valley you had to climb to see.
Cut away from the world and civilization,
A haven on earth it seemed.
A group of forty we were,
Two, above 40 and the rest below.
Who found the climb easier?
Other than our guides, no one in particular.
Our wake-up call came at 3 am,
We were physically alive, but mentally dead.
Packed our bags and tightened our shoes,
To visit a place only a man called ‘Sudhu’ would choose.
So we started our climb,
From a place called Khonoma.
It was the only time that I cried,
Internally for my Mama.
My memories of the place,
They are very vague.
All I know,
We walked for an entire day.
Half way through the climb,
I thought I was going to die.
But the thought of my Sir behind,
Changed all the negativity in my mind.
The mud, my feet,
The fog and some Twilight trees.
Were some of the things I still can imagine,
Other than the weird plants pricking my skin.
The flora and fauna,
I barely saw.
Just my shoes, pants and hands,
For a whole 16 hours.
I reached the top!
But saw no “Awesome” valley.
No stream or river,
Just some bushes and burnt trees.
Positive that this was the view we came to see,
All I needed now was a good night’s sleep.
Only when Sir mentioned the stuff he saw,
Did I realised that my feet, sky and ground were the only things I saw.
Oh well,
In the words of a great woman I met today.
She said, “It isn’t the top that is wonderful,
But the experience that makes it beautiful.”
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The view from the top : Dzukou Valley, Nagaland. |
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