One day, while walking back to my hostel, the thought of visiting Nepal simply, without any drama or story, visited me. Such fleeting thoughts for me become moments of passion, of utopian dreams and google-searches. Yet funnily enough, as the unusual processes of life are, it was only two months later that any of this got articulated.
My mother hails from the sea-shore. My father does not hail from the mountains. Thus, the sea has always been a companion, but the mountains hold some mysterious charm for me, outside the realms of parentage and upbringing, outside palpable reasons and logic. This very fog around it is why I love mountains. Defying all my logic, it makes them all the more magical for me. I have found that the best of logics can sometimes have rather foggy foundations.
What was I taking about?
Yes. Mountains. Mountains and Nepal.
So, I and my two dearest friends planned a week long excursion to Nepal. The distance from our hometowns being excruciatingly long, and our budgets very much grounded, we also roped Lucknow in for a day, which was also (thankfully!) where one of us was set up.
Banal words, but little did we know that this would be the beginning of something really unexpected; rather, something way beyond our expectations. In fact, more than anything, Nepal, apart from Nepal, was also a week’s time spent with friends, and as is the magic of spending the entire time with one another, much of our fears and vulnerabilities, anxieties and expectations found their own consolation, which ended into one of the closest moments I’ve ever had in my life. Our college was over and this would be the last time in some while we would be 'living' and 'breathing' with each other. It was hard going away.
But look at me giving away the epilogue in the prologue itself. Yet, that's okay too. The prologue here doesn’t matter, for this is a story that is anything, anything
but its end.