A silent prayer, always

You often don’t reckon the power of the mind. It’s often misunderstood that the power of the arms is greater. And sometimes some believe the mind can cure cancer, which is absurd. And sometimes absurd is just the simple truth.

Up on recent, I had been to this trek to Kedarnath. It’s a pilgrimage for Hindus, though I strongly am secular based, and am a strong vehement oppose of blind faiths. My aim of this trek was merely not the temple or the shrine. I love adventure, and this trek with wildly exotic scenery and backdrop fascinated me. And even higher treks to Vasuki Taal and Chorabali Taal were of paramount interest.

We had stayed overnight at Gaurikund, intending to start early in the morning for the 14 km long trek. We went up that day, taking a long 8 hours to go up, with big resting periods in between since the group had quite a few not-so-fit members. We enjoyed Kedarnath. However the trek to Vasuki taal could not be undertaken due to horrible weather conditions, and the one to Chorabali taal had to be forfeited midway. I’ll describe the trek and the visit in upcoming posts. Sorry if you thought this post would, and sincerely hope you’d wait for the one.

We were on our way back to Gaurikund, after 3 nights at Kedarnath. Now descending is a tricky job. It’s probably tougher than going up yourself. Quite akin to life itself. Many climb up. Not many know the way to descend the downs in life. It breaks many, permanently at times. I was accompanying the porters or pittu-s as they are called in that part of the world. They are locals and come down at great speed, using terrifying short cuts at times. The rest were far behind. On my way a person, maybe in early 30’s stopped me, asking politely if I was going down. On my affirmative reply, he said, he standing there since 12 in the morning (or the night, it’s all the same to me) waiting for his relatives. And I’ll let you in a bit of info. That night it was freezing cold at Kedarnath. With temperatures reportedly striking 2 degrees Celsius. This man stood out in that hell of a cold for relatives and his ailing father, who all reportedly had fallen behind this helpless man, due to the nature of the tough trek. These people weren’t out there for some adventure or admiring the scene. It was their plain belief to come to a place termed holy. it’s admirable, even though somewhere I feel any place is holy, when you truly call God from the insides. Striking this short conversation, I suddenly found myself adrift of the pittu-s. Hurrying up, treacherously, I was again encountered, by this man. He was all of 30, maybe taking a huge gamble not to make the man go so young. He was carrying 2 children on his shoulders. They were all of four. Sad I didn’t have the time or the mental earnestness to bring out my cam. One had polio, the other had cancer. And the two were his children, his only two, and twins. Amazing faith. Scintillating belief. Unwavering loyalty. Last hope. They all spoke out in volumes through the dark eyes of that man. I took out bottle of water, and tried to talk. My brain and mind corresponded and coincidented, something which has happened, rarely in my life. Whatever I wanted to say would be less. Whatever I wanted to speak would be to undermine him. Whatever I would dare to show for care would be mistaken for sympathy. In the end, I just gave him a small hug and moved. A silent prayer, always. May God listen wherever He is.