Barely two months into 2016, and I already know this is going to be the sort of year you look back on when you find yourself wondering when it all changed.
In these two months, I have quit a stable job and have managed to stifle my control freak inner self that wouldn’t have DREAMED of going forth without a plan.
Nothing matters when you decide you don’t care.
In these two months, I have said goodbyes I have been dreading for years. I used to have my heart twist and stomach plummet at the mere thought of flinging myself so far away from things that made me so happy. Feel so safe.
“Are you really happy, or merely comfortable?”
Goodbyes are never easy, none of us know how to deal with void. Our bodies and minds clam up at the thought of empty spaces, and thus begins a desperate surge to fill it up with anything we can lay our hands on.
Wait it out. Space is beautiful and the possibilities are endless.
I must have been lucky I got to leave on a trip the day I said goodbye to a workplace of 2.6 years. To people, a routine, to an identity, to a self, to stability and to comfort.
I’m also lucky I decided to say yes. I was going with people I barely knew and while there were a hundred reasons to say no, I decided to go with the flow. Nothing matters when you decide you don’t care.
Hampi, Karnataka, India.
What can I even say about the place? Let me try with a metaphor. Imagine knowing a certain someone all your life. Having seen them do their routine everyday tasks and activities to the point that you think you know them for all they are, when suddenly, one day, you see them dance. You’ve never seen them dance before, you’ve never seen them with flowers in their hair, white gossamer gown engulfing them, falling, flowing, dancing as they move with surreal grace and abandon- one with the rhythm. Something stirs within you as it dawns upon you- the magnitude of your ignorance. You never see her the same way again.
I have been visiting Karnataka for as long as I remember. I will never look at her the same way again.
Hampi is a paradox. An etch in time past and symbolic of what will hopefully be.
Lush rice paddy fields, rebelliously green in the searing heat. Boulders. So many boulders defying humanly comprehensible laws of physics. Ruins that speak of a time long gone, a time of glory and surplus. Clear lakes and streams, strewn about, bringing to life the picture in my head of what uninhabited planets must look like. It’s like nothing you’ve seen before, it’s like nothing you’ll ever see.
I gave in to a gasp. The gasp. The gasp we reserve for when we see something marvelous. I remember thinking then about how many gasps the universe held and feeling dejected about how I can never experience them all.
What happened after that first gasp was a flurry of activity, adventure and misadventure.
It started with having to leave immediately to cliff-jump into a lake after a 13 hour long bus journey. We had barely 10 minutes to freshen up, during which I decided to shave my legs. What do you get when you put together one bathroom for 4 rushed people and a super shady razor? Bloody legs and a bloody bathroom floor.
We used the next few minutes for some quick first aid and left anyway- in shorts and very, very unshaved legs in tow.
Nothing matters when you decide you don’t care.
I remember wondering if I could still swim in the lake with a cut on my leg..
Bikes! We had rented mopeds and I was still feeling a little limitless from my morning adventure, when I decide to give it a go. Now, I can ride cycles and believed I could ride bikes on straight roads with zero traffic, which means Bombay obviously never witnessed my (conditional) riding skills.
Hampi, I would have you know, does NOT have straight roads and constitutes of a lot of fauna traffic. As luck would have it, my moped, along with its powerlessness also had the tendency to keep stopping midway. When you think about sloping roads with falls on either side, a moped like this is probably not a good idea, but onward we went anyway. I did pretty well on our ride to the lake, except for this one fateful climb. What do you get when you put together a rookie rider, a climb and a faulty moped? A fall and deeply gashed legs, to be specific. Silver lining- it wasn’t the same leg as before! However, no time to mope. We had a cliff to jump off of. Onward..
It’s funny how the bigger gash put the smaller cut in perspective. And how they both collectively put my doubts in perspective. Of course I’d jump, of course I’d swim.
Nothing matters when you decide you don’t care.
We reached the lake a little after the others, to see them jumping off the dam into an expansive lake. Quick first aid again, and there I was on the edge, people on one side egging me on to jump, the lake in front of me- unmoving, daunting and the unending space below me- between me and the lake surface. I knew I’d be safe, I have done this before (albeit into pools), but all that seemed to engulf my mind at that point was that space. The thought of my body at the mercy of gravity, falling into nothingness.
“GO FOR IT!” my mind cried out. 1 second of courage. Just muster that 1 second of courage and it’ll be okay. But it’s precisely times like these when your mind and body seem like two separate entities, each one rebelling against the other. I almost turned around until I decide to surprise both my mind and body. Shut the mind up, shook the legs out of paralysis, took one deep breath and jumped into a glorious free fall. 5 seconds of nothingness and then the rush of cold, liberating water as I went right in and swooped right out towards light. I turned my face towards the sun, floated on the water surface and smiled as I soaked in the sun and the adrenalin.
We got out of the lake, dripping wet, sans towels, shampoos, conditioners, soaps or anything that necessitates a conventional bath. We had the sun dry our bodies and clothes as we got onto our mopeds again to move on to the rest of the day. I distinctly remember the feeling of riding with reckless abandon, faces flushed raw and happy.
As we approached dusk, we set off for a trek to reach sunset point. It was a long, demanding walk & climb across rocky terrains after the adventures of the day but we often underestimate what our bodies can take. We reached the top and settled on a boulder, gazing at the wondrous expanse of rocks, lakes, greenery and admiring the sunset. While everything was wonderful, the most dominant feeling we felt was thirst. The thirst you feel when the sun has soaked up every physical, superficial presence of water on your body and the climb has exhausted all reserve facilities in your system. All I could see in the hands of strangers were their water bottles, but I didn’t have the heart to ask them for water is precious that high up a hill. I remember thinking about how I now almost empathized with robbers and murderers. Extreme feelings are powerful and we have our sanity at their mercy. We began our descent, and it felt like my injured leg and my listless body were only complying at the thought of a drink at the end of it. It was dark by the time we reached the end of our descent and we wasted no time in hopping onto our mopeds in search of water. I still remember the grins we exchanged as we took the first sip. I could feel my body eagerly lapping it up and coming back to life gradually, like old machinery. It was hands down the best drink of water I’ve had. We rode back to the rest of our group, hearts content as I gazed at the canopy of a million stars while riding pillion. (As much as I enjoyed riding during the day, I still know where to draw the line.)
While we spent most of our next day visiting beautiful places and doing fun things, I’m going to focus on what stood out for me through the trip. Come dusk, we had another sunset point climb scheduled, which I skipped to give my leg some respite. I like exploring places by myself. It’s refreshing to soak it all in without consuming any energy in making conversation or dividing attention. I walked on the street, acutely aware of how incredibly happy everyone looked. I don’t know if it was the “Be happy in Hampi” boards up everywhere or the generally chill vibe of the place, but it seemed like someplace nothing ever went wrong. Everyone loved each other, had smiles to share and music to listen to together. There was no hurry. I walked until I reached a certain ’Rasta Café- just the right amounts of empty and pretty to lure me in. I plopped myself on one of the gaddas, leaned against a pillow and called for my 100th glass of Watermelon & mint juice on the trip. The only other people there besides me was this French couple, both of them artists who were drawing each other until one of them passed out. I fished out my Kindle and kept reading until the sun set and I could see no more, while Chris Martin crooned softly.
I got back to our hotel soon after for a night I’ll never forget. 7 of us- 3 absolute strangers who we only met on the trip, 2 others I knew as acquaintances, 1 friend and I sat down for dinner, while deciding to play 36 questions. What followed after was..beautiful.
We kept at it till the wee hours of the morning and barely managed to reach question 12. Here we were, a bunch of strangers and misfits in their own ways, baring our souls- slice by tiny slice and revealing sides to ourselves that we had locked up someplace in Bombay. And what absolutely floored me was how encouraging, positive, understanding and empathetic everyone was towards each persons’ words. Everybody spoke, everybody digressed, everyone cried, laughed, sighed, held hands and smiled. No one judged anyone, no one argued, no one belittled anyone else. The 7 of us sat dusting the corners of our hearts & minds, finding commonalities in our stories and feeling like a part of an incredible bigger whole. I truly believe in the inherent goodness in everybody, and this night only reinforced my belief that all the world needs is more empathy and a few more listening ears for magic to occur.
On the day we were to leave, we had just one stop before lunch, after which we would head to our buses home. I couldn’t have asked for a better one. I have had a childhood filled with Enid Blyton’s adventure stories and if you, like me, are thrilled by the prospect of hideouts, you’ll understand my excitement. We took a rick to what seemed like a deserted area, after which we walked for about 30 mins going through fields, walking under tree canopies, jumping over rocks and boulders and passing by streams to reach a glorious cascade waterfall hidden from immediate sight by humongous rocks piled up upon each other. I immediately imagined being a local and being the only one who knew about the place. This place would be my personal hideout every time the world got a bit much to handle. I had decided against swimming earlier as we were headed straight to the bus from the spot but the incredible sight got the better of me. I dived in, kurta et al and with no change of clothes. I would let the sun play savior again.
Nothing matters when you decide you don’t care.
Best decision ever. Our entry point was dangerously close to the mouth of the waterfall and we had to walk on all fours on slippery rocks to reach safer waters. We swam against the strong currents when the water got too deep to reach rocky anchors, each one helping whoever was in the danger of flowing away and down the fall. And it was here, not so safely tethered against a rock, water flowing on either side and evaporating off my face as I gazed at the skies, that I truly experienced what we had been speaking about the night before- our absolutely wonderful insignificance.
Lessons learnt:
— No-one really cares about perfectly hairless limbs but yourself. Do yourself a favor and don’t sweat it.
— Nothing we attempted on this trip was life-endangering in any way. Be brave, don’t be stupid.
— Try to conquer your fears.
— But remember it’s always alright to say no.
— Carry enough water, and always buy it for others too.
— You can never gaze at the stars enough.
— Never judge people by their age. I met 17 yr olds on the trip who are smarter than many 25 yr olds I know.
— Freshwater lake swims make your hair shinier than conditioners.
— TALK. TO. STRANGERS. You will more often than not strike gold.
— Just because it’s South India doesn’t mean your dosas always have to be delicious.
— Don’t bore waiters in Udupi restaurants with questions/sentences/words/gestures. They’re busier than you ever will be. You had best be prepared to eat whatever they decide to grace you with. Jain? Too bad. EAT YO’ ONIONS.
