Gaurav Singh travelled and worked across 16 villages in Himachal Pradesh over three months and came to the conclusion that the more you see, the more you forget and that is exactly what makes you want to see more… and more
Every few days, while scrolling through your neat algorithm-driven travel feeds, you see someone taking the ‘leap of faith’. This, for them, means quitting their job and doing what we would all love to do for a living — travel. It is the eagerness of the journey to reach a place that you have envisioned to explore. The childlike wonder — on a flight, on a bus, in a shared Sumo taxi, or on a Roadways bus — that you experience makes the vessel that transports us irrelevant as long as you reach safe and sound.
By no means do I want to tell you that you should quit what you are doing and start travelling instantly. A select few know/acknowledge the reality that we live in and the amount of privilege there is to be able to take a vacation. Most people in our country have to put their heads down and do what they do in order to keep food on the table and keep the ball rolling. Not just that, while travelling as a cis-abled body man, I can't even begin to imagine how it is like travelling for people from DBA (Dalit, Bahujan and Adivasi) communities, women, people with disabilities and transgender folks. So, in case you are someone who can travel, please understand the immense amount of layered privilege that you come from and — instead of using your travels as a means for mere vanity — try to find empathy to come back and understand the realities of your own societies better.
I run a social media marketing agency based out of Delhi. Never in the three years of running it in a pre-pandemic world, I could imagine taking a long break or work from the mountains, as they popularly call it these days. I feel we all have a troublesome inner voice that keeps telling us what we truly want to do and pushes us to prioritise what we MUST do. While in most cases the former is the right thing to do. A lot of times it pushes us away from what might make us truly vivaciously happy. Travelling has been that thing for me. So, somewhere in the middle of the pandemic when the restrictions were eased out a bit, I took all the necessary measures and packed my backpack to travel across Himachal Pradesh. And gosh! Did I travel?
DAYS INTO MONTHS
What was supposed to be a quick in and out trip to the mountains, ended up being a three-month-long love affair. I carried my work with me thinking I would manage it on the run. As the days passed, I realised that working from the shifting wooden attic of homestays made me feel like I belonged there. I would go out early in the morning for a trail, pick some wild apples and meet local people. I didn't speak their language but, on most days, we would talk assisted by hand gestures and exchange glances with sombre smiles. I would come back from my walks by 10 AM, start my work and continue until half-past two when I could smell fresh food being cooked by the house-owners. The aroma used to be a pleasant alarm that reminded me to break for the feast. The regular chai breaks deserve an honourary mention here too. Nights were starry beyond measure and unlike the city, sleep wouldn't really play games with me. I started falling in love with this new strange schedule that I had become extremely comfortable with. In places where I was stationed for longer, I would watch rooms being filled for day(s) and being emptied. It felt both beautiful and melancholic at the same time.
I travelled through the Parvati Valley to the Tirthan Valley moving towards Jibhi and then went across the Kullu Valley. I covered five, six… no, close to 16 villages.
BEING ALONE AND FOR YOURSELF
I travelled solo even though a lot of times I had the chance of company with people who I met on the way. Most days I would find myself alone at a cafe or a tea stall. It did feel a bit strange in the beginning. I mean, when was the last time you went to a coffee shop in your city and ordered a drink or a full meal and sat there without a laptop? It just doesn't happen. I've seen people on actual dates getting fidgety, constantly checking phones and trying desperately to make small talk (myself included). But it was a lot different in the mountains, I would sit alone and get comfortable within minutes. The whole facade of proving that you are wanted by other people takes a back seat, that is the best lesson solo travel teaches you. It probably was also the freezing December which made my brain stop working and prevented it from pondering over things that would otherwise take unnecessary space. How does one feel something when they are feeling too cold? (Asking for a friend.)
Like songs by the American punk rock band, Green Day, I would walk the streets alone, try and grasp as much as I could like a sponge — the culture, the people, the village's character and how it smelled. Every turn, every alley became important to scale. Several times one turn across a particular mountain changed the terrain completely. I lived in those moments. Many times, I'd just have to sit down to comprehend what would lie in front of me. I would break down into tears, gasp, lose breath and just be starstruck. I would just distance myself if others were around to be able to make sense of something so magnificent and how could humankind deserve any of that? The more you see, the more you forget and that is exactly what makes you want to see more… and more.
You also see patterns of the village that you are stationed at. Saturdays and Sundays have the hustle as long weekend crowds from Delhi/Chandigarh sweep the town. The shops turn lively, the pitch of the karaokes grows louder, streets tend to become drunker. Like life, the same settles down on a Monday morning as if nothing happened last night — a clean slate. The locals can be seen on the streets going on and about with their mundane activities and the pathways go back to sleep. Though reality completely shifts when you go higher up the mountains. The 'mountains are calling' spirit of many so-called travelers breaks apart; the internet connection goes missing and all the worldly comfort that most people enjoy perish. I feel if only people wait that bit out and let the initial skin of discomfort wear off that the magic begins. From this moment on everything affects you differently, time makes you confident about your decisions and you create a routine that is queerly blissful. The anxiety of wanting to do something all the time goes away and a refreshing inner voice takes over. One that is more independent, less material and immensely grateful. I'd just urge you to please do yourself that favour and take yourself out on a holiday without noise and all that added responsibility. You will be vulnerable beyond expectation but the way you'd start to see yourself will change you forever.