Where Nature doesn’t hurry, and yet you accomplish everything
Tours have always been an offset to not-in-peace-syndrome Delhi does to me time and again. Much like the effect of vacations, I come out all charged up after any tour. But, I wouldn’t trifle Kasar Devi, a village to the north of Almora, calling it a small tourist spot, because I feel my soul is still anchored there, while my body is back here, confronted by the societal obligations.
I wasn’t giving a soliloquy. Nature does talk there.
While our car slackened up along the thinning road, I was in my slumber until that particular moment cropped up when I found myself all lively and revamped, as if I never slept. There and then, I had my epiphany that nature here does speak, and I braced myself up to enjoy the dialogue I always imagined to have with my mother nature, but couldn’t ever be lucky enough.
Kasar Rainbow Yoga Retreat was to be our roost for three nights; however, I wouldn’t have minded being sheltered under the indiscriminate, blue ceiling at all. But yes, had I not been to this resort, I would have certainly cared later.
Without an iota of overemphasis, trust me when I say that this resort was no less than one of the Lego pieces of the vast, surreal creation by God. With the grandeur of well-proportioned, luxurious room, the added gaiety was to see the snow-clothed peaks of Nanda Devi and Trishul constantly waving at us through our cozy, little balcony. All in all, there’s a heaven inside the heaven, and that is the least how I can sing the elegance of it.
As my friend and I freshened up and stepped out of our cubicle, the sun was all set to bid us its goodbye for the day. A goodbye that is an indestructible gift, as if the lord sun gifted me the sky, ribboning it around with the bands of orange, red and pink. My eyes would perpetually treasure this gift Kasar endowed me with.
Not even a night passed, and I was already panicky thinking I need to pack myself off this village in a couple of days. I yearned for time to freeze and never let me take off this wonderland; and never render my soul homeless because this was the first time my heart actually found its home: Kasar.
A stone’s throw away from our resort, stretched out was a lush meadow, which was the most comfortable couch my butts could rest on, and the sky overhead was the best screen I could endlessly run my eyes on. Such picturesque vista indeed necessitated both of us to forget about the existence of our phones. Rejuvenated and relaxed, we absorbed the stories each of the clouds hanging above us had to say. Basked in the green, tall beauties whispering to us through the mouth of their leaves, connected to the desperate pages of my ever-longed book in a way which definitely quenched the reader within me like never before, and gave meaning to a blank, white sheet in the form of a sketch I never had time for in the city.
Oh Kasar, you beauty!
Have you ever been in a state when your body felt stripped of its flesh, bones, muscles and whatever it is made up of as if you are afloat? Do you have a hand in the formula which makes you feel you’re leading even if you are lagging? Do you know what it's like to get astray and lost under the intense looks of nature to find yourself? That is the magic Kasar does to its lovers. To a lover like me and to don’t-know-how-many more souls.
While leisurely ambling through the valley, every nook and corner I passed by spoke to me something, coaxing my soul never to be a part of the hustle and bustle again. This village, however not a haven for many, but of the few whom I got to steal glimpses of had a lot to teach. Brimming passion and undestructive satisfaction sit on their faces, no matter, however, resource-scarce they are. These people are an epitome of the satiations I struggle for every day.
You know what? I’m lost in the labyrinth of words, afraid if I miss out on any of its beauties. Of the subtle kisses clouds planted on my cheeks; of those minutes during meditation when something really hauled my soul up, detaching it from my body; of the sights when a fluttering butterfly and the rustling leaves were the greatest joy I ever knew; of the too little, yet too big joy in wobbling a cycle along the road; of the view when the galaxy of stars above and lit-up houses dotted on the sloping hill mirrored each other; and of all that didn’t want me to be in Delhi anymore.