article, dharamsala, friends, india tourism, life, LOVE, memories, road trip, traveling, Uncategorized

The Road Trip

We pulled into Dharamsala around as the sun was first rising, with two fingers of light on the horizon. We crossed the breezy but narrow roads into the city limits, making our way to a bus depot.  Rubbing my sleep-filled eyes, I tried to peer through the hazy glass, at the snow-covered mountains on my right, the sky turning the color of light orange with wispy blue clouds at the edges, like froth at the top of a drink. Most of my classmates were asleep, the target of my envy —for the rumbling-swaying bus devoid me of the much-needed rest—considering we had a long day ahead of us.  I had stayed up, flitting in and out of sleep, leaning in, my weight on the shoulders of a friend, who had blissfully slept, much to my chagrin. We walked up to our hotel, with the taste of our exhaustion livid in our mouths, slept on the bed in the same outfit, only to wake up an hour later, drink a cup of coffee in the beautiful terrace area and later, drive to our first destination.

We had the trip of our lives, with the fear of imminent placements put mutually on the backburner. I have no adjectives to describe my classmates— they are the most eclectic bunch of people I have met! Our class would throw their hands up in the air and relax, with music in the background and a cigarette in their hand, than battle out political differences. This educational trip, or so it was meant to be, was a proof of our symbiotic association. We travelled all day, amidst the cliffs which were marked by tall trees along the roadsides, their arms up like they were being frisked. We ambled along a clammy-smelling, muddy trail to the Tibetan parliament in exile, and trudged lazily from a library to a human rights discussion. We braved the sleety rain ricocheting off the rocks. We were bemused by the plight of the young children at a Tibetan Children’s school and amused by the extremely cheap desserts at the Tibetan café.

We would come back to our hotel, exhausted from the day but pumped up for the night. Groups were fluid as people drifted in and out of different rooms with ease, some fumbling around for shampoo, and some for a matchbox. Amidst all the clamor of our incessant bickering and bluff sessions, we all felt united by one purpose—that we did not let our fears prevent us from missing out on this trip. We shared childhood (read embarrassing) anecdotes and danced to old Bollywood jingles into the night (well some did, I slept. Huge regrets.) I trekked — or something close enough to a trek —with my friends, without a care in the world, without any fear of being embarrassed of my child-like naivety. I’d like to think the time spent on a stony wall, within the reclaimed cathedral just off the road, brought us closer to each other. I’d like to hope that somehow, this short tour gave us all memories to store within each fleeting moment. Before we start feeling limited by our lives and jobs, penned in by money or family, we stretched out in our bit of the leg-room and somehow, just somehow, made this tour into the road trip we all dream about.

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WITH PASSING DAYS

Often in the ponderous passing days A fleeting thought usually crosses my way Is it the beautiful past that i fear, Or the unknown future that’s anear? I wonder where our acumen went astray, Fawning over mundane yet lucrative worldly ways. How boisterous were we of our love, Where is the sanctity,is there ever enough? Holding hands,we Seven,dodged our paths, Each fighting a battle close to heart, What bound our psyche,our frivolousness! A bond that was too deep to suppress. And yet,here we are,all separate hands, For future’s sake,we take our stand, And decide to part,to make our place In this ruthless mundacious space! What college holds,i cant faintly tell, But loneliness often misery spells. We are so used to each others’ presence All this palaver,doesn’t make any sense. Why college? Why work? I believe 12th was enough! If more torturous be said, I’ll prefer BOARDS instead! Just let us live these years again, Only school, the tales are more arcane.:) No facing the ferosh world alone, No future to fear or past to mourn. Once again we Seven will breathe, Complacent in ourselves,with ease.:) These passing days though make their mark, My wish will go unheard,lo hark!! To Some pretty soul,these words i’ll entrust. To remind us when memories turn to dust, That a bond once shared,still signets, Abets us with a soft caress….