Reminisce

Chapter 21 - Memoria

My eyes opened of their own accord. It was 3 am. I turned on my torch and started rolling up my sleeping bag. The tent was completely drenched on the outside, thanks to the snowstorm of yesterday that had finally reached Ganesh Camp. 

I walked over to the hut, and saw Happy and Pramod, already up and about. Pramod was cooking breakfast, while Happy was rounding up all the tidbits and odds and ends strewn around. I shook Akash and Naman awake. 

Packing was tedious, but necessary. We had to dry the tent outside, fold it properly, collect all the anchors and pack it as compactly as possible so as not to burden the rucksack. Sometimes, we had to start over, if there was too much air left during the rolling. 

Akash and Naman handled the clothes and food, redistributing the supplies that were left and deciding what to wear and what to pack. 

Once we were done, Pramod handed us our plates - noodles again. There is something about slurping hot, soupy noodles in the mountains at 4 am that no form of description or depiction can really do justice to. 

We picked up our bags and went out the door. I was stunned. 

I remembered this. It was happening all over again. The hues of the clouds, the sun tormenting us all with its evasiveness, the soft light on the mountain peaks...I have been here before.

I walked from the bus stand, dragging my suitcase along. It all seemed too familiar - only this time, I was coming back from my brother's marriage. I had a job, two courses, and time like never before, to do everything I wanted to, before this place was taken away from me forever. 

Time to build memories. 

I waited. I wasn't leaving before I saw the first light hit the mountain crests. It would come. A few seconds more.

The circle was in front of me. A few steps more. I would see the front gate. 

I turned, and saw the open gates of BITS Pilani.

There it was; like a sign, it stayed still, burning a permanent insignia in my mind. Now, time to recollect everything we had left behind. 

Before we left, we collected all the plastic bottles previous trekkers had left carelessly around the camp and formed a heap. Hopefully, someone, someday, would take it all back.

We let Akash go first, owing to his speed and slippery shoes - he would have to walk slowly, step more precariously. Me and Naman followed. I saw our old footprints, and tried to walk in them, like it was a childish game. 

'Danish, this semester I want to record as many songs as possible. I have an interface - let's do it.'

'Okay,' I nodded. It was Nandini's last semester too. We had plans of releasing an album.

'So, what do we do first?'

'Floor 67.'

We stopped at the rock fused with the tree we had passed while coming up. I stood on it, watching the light sweep into the valley, gaining on us. Me and Naman switched backpacks, and waited for Akash to catch up. 

'Hey, even I want to record.' Akshay grinned. 'Let's do Sarasangi, Charukeshi, Sindhubhairavi, Maand, everything, before you leave. Keys and vocals.'

'Of course.' I replied. 'This is the semester for collaborations and farewells.'

His smile faded. 'Don't say such things.'

'The river crossing is just half an hour away. Let's keep up this speed.' Happy announced, passing us by. 'We'll stop there for a while, to drink water and bathe. In that order.' He gave a short laugh.

I picked up the bag, and continued. Every step took me farther from the mountains, and closer to leaving this place - but I took it.

No way but forward, right?

'Listen,' Sneha said. We were sitting in Raag room, deciding the logistics and composing and choreographing schedule for Sangamam. 'I don't want you or Akshay to be in-charges for any piece. Let juniors learn.'

I was torn - there was the nostalgic desire to make the most of my last Sangamam, and my duty as a senior to let juniors take over and continue Ragamalika's legacy. That was when I realized how selfish my sentimentality was.

Why do we strive to covet beauty so much? Just the knowledge that it exists isn't enough - we need to own it, be a part of it, and experience it to be satisfied. I didn't need to be in the mountains to love them, I didn't need to walk through a cloud to marvel at it, I didn't have to taste the mountain water to appreciate its purity - but I had to. 

Someday, I hope we can experience the bliss we all chase relentlessly, without smothering it with our senses. 

I looked at the crazy batch we'd gotten last year. Aparna, Mrudula, Ajinkya, Chirag - each with their own quirks and eccentricities. Raag never failed to disappoint - we somehow ended up recruiting the most talented, screwed-up idiots of every batch. 

Me, Vighnesh and Rutwik sat together, planning out the piece for the scene in which Indra incurred Durvasa's wrath and then the Devas danced to the shenanigans played by his curse. It was a typical Raag composing session - stupid jokes, incoherent, random jamming and easy, childish laughter. I felt like a fresher again.

Oh God, leaving this was going to be hard. 

We'd reached the river crossing. As I climbed down the last of the steps, I looked back up. It still seemed unbelievable, with every step, how high we'd gone, and how quickly we'd come back. 

I took off my bag and my jacket, and stared into the bubbling water. I had returned to my Pensieve. And I had new memories to leave behind. 

Chapter 22 - Samudramanthan

On the other side, I saw Pramod washing all our plates in the flowing water, rubbing them with the sand on the banks. Behind me, I heard Happy dismounting the steps noisily, his bulky shoes parting the gravel easily. 

'What are you waiting for?' he boomed. 'Take a dip, man!'

The water was freezing. I was reluctant. There was a chance of hypothermia, wasn't there? My body was very warm - was it wise to undergo such a sudden temperature change?

Well, boohoo. I wasn't going to get this anywhere else.

Sometimes, we need a literal leap of faith. 

I stepped foot into the water, and got the shock of my life. 

I was in music club. We were discussing the final songs for Mithali. It was the day of Sangamam too - the show was in three hours. 

Pranav walked in, his expression grim. He came directly to me.

'There's been an accident.'

My body felt numb, my heart beat strongly, pumping warm blood to all corners to battle the sudden cold. I stepped out of the water, waiting for the shock to subside. 

'What about a two-day show? Like the Sangamams of yore...'

'Yeah. Music Concert one day, Samudramanthan the next. It'll be like a festival.'

'All right, then.' I spoke up. 'Let's decide twelve pieces that we want to do in the music concert, and the allotments for the same.'

As I watched Akshay calling dibs on every Raga possible, I kept wondering, how serious was the accident? Was it one of those permanently debilitating injuries? Would it end up affecting their pursuit of dance?

Sneha sent me a message allaying all my fears. 'It's not that bad. Mostly bruises and tissue injuries. No fractures or internal wounds.'

I remember staring at my fingers all throughout the meeting. I couldn't get over how fragile they were, and how important for my music. One twist of fate could destroy what I loved most. 

In that moment, I admired Shruti and Akanksha more than anyone else - for they would shrug off their injuries, and dance again, this very semester. 


I toweled myself off, and put my clothes back on. My legs felt reinvigorated, reborn. It's amazing how our body can go through the greatest shocks and emerge stronger and better than before.

'So, bottle concert, flute harmony, percussion piece, Carnatic-Hindustani Jugalbandi, Sindhubhairavi RTP, English note...wow, this is some line-up. Do you think we can pull this off?'

'Let's find out.'

I looked at Nandini. 'Do you want to sing in the show?'

Nandini grinned. 'Of course. I've always wanted to perform in a Raag concert.'

'Well then, that's settled. I'll ask Ravneet, and we'll have a Music Club Collaboration.'



Akash had gone on ahead, while me and Naman put on our bags. I took one last mouthful of water, and deposited the last memory of the mountains in the stream. The water gurgled away, like it was narrating its own journey from the ice we had just visited. Some day, I would learn to sit still and listen, and would understand what it was telling me. Till then, I would have to be content with the cool breeze and reveries. 




I quietly stole one of the memories away and crossed the river. I would keep one moment for myself, to remind myself where I needed to go, once I stopped belonging anywhere. 

'I'm sorry, you can't play in the flute harmony tomorrow. You're going off-scale and off-beat. I have no choice.'

Abhay stared at me, expressionless. I looked away. I knew the piece would be incomplete without him.

Later, I heard him practicing in the squash court. I heaved a sigh of relief.

It didn't matter whether he practiced and played perfectly tomorrow, or if he decided to give up and dismiss me as a cruel, selfish, arrogant senior. I had done something wrong; I knew it. And it would stay with me forever.

I raced on ahead - before I knew it, I was ahead of everyone else. It was as if I was running from the mountains because I knew if I stayed any longer, I wouldn't be able to leave. 


We were on stage. Abhay played his Kanada aalaap. It was beautiful. I smiled. There was no need to worry now, the piece would be all right. 


Last Spring, I remembered with a smile. I looked at the flowers blanketing the hills, and the receding snow in the distance.


'Sundara..Ishavara..Gatinida...nisha...' The minor to the major, and then the chromatic descent. Ah, Sindhubhairavi.

By the end of the piece, I didn't know what I had played - I had just exited a trance. Me, Rahul and Akshay looked at each other as we went off-stage. A fitting end to our trio. 

I saw all the houses again, water flowing through their canals and fields, living out their quiet, secluded lives. 



The bottle concert had been fun. It had actually comprised mostly of dancers - I was surprised, and delighted at their enthusiasm. Aparna, Akanksha, Tania, Shruti, Sneha. The others had been Vighnesh, Ritwik and Akshay. And me, the big bad conductor.

On stage, there had been some mistakes. I understood - it was remarkable how they had learnt so much on an obnoxious instrument in a matter of weeks, and in something outside their comfort zone. 

However, I couldn't help the disappointed look on my face as I exited the stage with the bottles. 


The worst part was, they all saw it.

I reached the steps that led down to the hydel power plant we had passed earlier. We were almost done.

'Maula mere...lele meri jaan...' Nandini ended on the higher Sa, I on Pa, and Akshay on the lower komal dha. We all had found our place. 

I unplugged my keyboard and took it back to the music club, covering it with the red curtain I had borrowed. I knew there was nothing different, but somehow, I felt it knew that it had just given its last live performance. 

I didn't have the strength yet to face this. I turned off the light and locked the room, leaving to join the others. 

I passed the river. It looked so beautiful in the bright sunlight. The netted sunshine fell on the rocks by the banks, and the bowing trees formed tiny groves, little shrines for the lucky ones who stopped by to still their minds for a while. 

I was lucky, wasn't I? To have such amazing, talented people around me, always excited and driven to do something new, no matter what hurdles or circumstances deterred them. 

And what had I done with it?

'You know we all cried, right? We all saw how disappointed you were after the bottle piece. That's how much everyone looks up to you.'

I didn't know what to say. My first instinct was defensive; the piece hadn't gone very well, and I had just expressed it. How was I to know what that would do to the others? 

My second instinct was rationalization. Now, they would realize their mistakes and not repeat them, right? Pain was good, I always told myself. 

My third instinct was to apologize and hope that it cleared everything up, repaired their feelings, absolved me of this crime. 

My fourth instinct was to accept that I had done something wrong again, and this would stay with me for a long time. 

For the first time in my life, I embraced the fourth. 

The river called out to me, 'Stay for a moment longer, just a second more...'

I listened. And obliged. 

I sat by the rock near the bottom, absorbing the entirety of what was happening around me. I tried to capture every sensory perception, every emotion I was feeling. 

This was truly my last silent moment in the symphony I had just played, and I wished nothing more but for the silence to play forever.

Samudramanthan. All the six parts came out perfectly. From the woe of the Devas to the defeat of the Asuras, it had been a brilliant, tight show - the perfect ending to a perfect four years in Raag. 

Wait, not yet.

'Baaro krishnaiyya, baaro krishnaiyya, baaro krishnaiyya..' Akshay ended on komal dha, I on Ma, and Abhijit on Sa. 

The word Samadha is composed of two words. 'Sam' means surrender, and 'Aadh' means Lord. 

It was the perfect ending to a perfect four years in Raag. 

'Come on, time to leave!' Happy yelled from above, Akash and Pramod in his stead. I climbed back up and grabbed my bag. 

I stood still on the rock, almost unable to leave. It was as if my mind thought if I stayed any longer, a part of me would be left behind, like a Horcrux I had killed myself to make. 

I turned and left. This time, I didn't leave any memories behind. 

Chapter 23 - Gone

We were back at the cable chair. Pramod and Akash went first, followed by all our backpacks. Me, Naman and Happy sat last. I looked down, and couldn't help remembering the cliff-diving in Rishikesh - it had almost been the same height. 

Towards the end, Happy and Pramod had a playful tug-of-war, trying to throw each other off by pulling on the ropes. I couldn't help laughing - these little games were what you remembered most.

'MAG,' Shruti announced. 'First three letters of the word.'

'JK Rowling.' Parag gave a hint, looking at us intensely. 'Come on!' his face contorted.

'Contact!' I shouted, 'Three, two, one..'

'Magic.'

'Maggots.'

The whole cab fell silent. 'What did you say?' I whispered.

'You idiot, maggots! That's what JK Rowling called the non-magical people..'

'I'm pretty sure they were called Muggles,' came Sneha's tiny voice.

Parag looked like someone who, while picking flowers on the railway track, had been hit in the back by the afternoon express. 

We all burst out laughing. 'Dude,' I spluttered. 'I know they were horrible people, but she didn't call them maggots...'

We dismounted, and climbed up to the road. We needed a bus from Powri to Reckong Peo. There were none in sight. We walked to the nearest bus stand, and sat down. 

'All right, Raag, let's see how badass you really are.' I shouted back to them, standing on top of the cliff. I jumped off, and gravity yanked me into the water in seconds, the adrenaline rush almost making my heart stop.

I swam over to the other side. Moments later, Sneha swam over to me. 'I jumped off a cliff for you,' she yelled hysterically, while I laughed. It looked like she didn't know whether to hit me or hug me.

Thankfully, she chose the latter. 

The bus arrived. We ran awkwardly, our bulky bags not suited for the Indian art that was bus-climbing. 

Somehow, we found a place to stand. I stood up, and glimpsed a mirror after a week. My face was red and bearded - I looked like a school child who had dressed up as Santa Claus in a fancy dress competition. 

I hoped my mother would let me in when I reached home. 

I walked into Vijay's with Pranav. He was still writing my farewell write-up, stealing mischievous glances at me from time to time. He was an excellent writer; I was headed for a fate worse than death. 

'Danish! We're playing contact - I need you.' Sneha signaled to me frantically. I flexed my fingers and sat next to my batch-mates. It was the last and the biggest event Ragamalika hosted as a club; the farewell. 

We reached Reckong Peo. Naman headed off with Happy and Pramod to collect his bag, while me and Akash looked for an ATM.

'So, the final cost,' Happy grinned evilly. I groaned - he was such a dramatist. 

We had given him 3000 in advance for the tents and sleeping bags. We were expecting a final cost of more than 5000 per person, as online sources had led us to believe. 

'12,000,' he declared. 'Since you gave me 3000 already, I just need 9000 more from you.'

We handed over the cash. After the amazing experience he had taken us through, haggling felt like a sin. And we knew we wouldn't get such a trek at such a reasonable price anywhere else. 

'There is a bus that goes directly to Delhi, leaving in about five minutes,' Happy pointed to the bus station. 'Best of luck, guys.'

We said our goodbyes, and Happy joined Pramod under a huge banyan tree near the bus stand. I looked at the two of them, sure that I would be seeing them again.

The bus in question arrived on cue. Akash said he would go on to Chitkul. Me and Naman decided to go back. 

We boarded the bus and bought our tickets. We were going home.

Or were we leaving it?

This always happened in a Raag farewell - people kept leaving, and we would invariably shift to the temple when C'Not closed. So our batch decided to keep this farewell short.

Incidentally, this farewell would set a new record - 16 hours. 

It was raining again. I saw the lightning streaks charge into the valley, ending as abruptly as they'd begun. I saw cherry and apple trees, covered by translucent nets to protect from the snow and storm. 

No one could really escape the storm. 

We were sitting in front of Vyas. I ended my speech, and looked at everyone around me. Akanksha came and hugged me, and left. Tania and Vighnesh, and Abhijit were next. 

There was now a small, solemn group of Abhishek, me, Nityasa, Rahul, Akshay, Shreya and Rohit remaining. 

Out of the blue, we saw Nishant, our batch-mate, who had been in Raag for a semester, walking towards us.

We stopped at Rampur Bashahr. Me and Naman decided to get some apple juice for the road. I saw a strange silhouette walking strangely towards our bus. I recognized it as Akash.

He smiled and got on the bus. No questions were asked.

Rahul gave his speech. He was just like me - I knew it would hit him later, what we were all leaving behind. Till then, we would continue being the jokers in the group. 

It was Nityasa's turn. 

The bus left, picking up speed as it got closer to Shimla. Dusk was falling, and clouds, lightning and rain were all I could see around me. 

It was SAC. Clouds were gathering, and there was faint drizzling, enough to see the mist floating in the air. I played a small Megh Malhaar tune on my flute. Nityasa came and joined me. 

The rain fell heavier. 

I could see droplets hitting the windowpane and dying, leaving streaks of water behind, forming a mirage of the world around it, in a tiny bubble. 

I played a Pied Piper-esque tune, and hopped along in sync to Nityasa and Soumya. We were dancing like crazy little kids, transported back to the first time we had experienced rain as toddlers. 

Nityasa kicked towards me, splashing me with earthy rainwater. Well, this meant war. 

We reached Shimla. The driver announced that there would be a 40-minute break. Naman bolted for the grocery stores - he had been hunting for the Lays West Indies Hot n Sweet Chilli flavour this entire trip. Such childish pursuits.

Finally, he found one. Holding it up like a trophy, he entered the bus, and looked directly at me, with the most authentic glee I had ever seen. 

Sometimes, the little things are the only things. 

Me and Nityasa were both drenched to our toes, and we kept splashing rainwater on each other like we had found our first river in a post-apocalyptic world. 

Sneha came out of the Raag room, furious. 'Nityasa, Danish! Get inside this instant! You'll both fall sick, you morons.'

I splashed some water on Sneha. Nityasa laughed, and then caught herself as she saw Sneha's expression. Now we had gone too far. 

The bus left. The driver switched off the lights, and I could see nothing but a faint sky, full of stars. The clouds had parted - the rain had stopped. 

'The one thing I'm most grateful to Raag for, is giving me these few people that I know I will always be in touch with.' Nityasa ended her speech. She looked over to Akshay - it was his turn.

Naman had fallen asleep beside me. It was just me, and whatever thoughts I chose to think. Most of what I was feeling was gratefulness - this was one set of memories that was going to change me, and the course my life would take. 

"And I thank that little butterfly that flaps its little wings,

And turns lives upside down with the hurricane it brings..."

So much could have been different..and they were all close calls. Almost joined IIT Madras, almost got BITS Goa, almost missed out on Raag in my first semester, almost left Raag in my second year, almost discarded the Phantom Of The Swan Lake plot (which would probably have been better), almost thought against using a keyboard in Raag, almost stayed on for placements in the first semester, almost cancelled the Rishikesh trip...

Almost decided to back out from this one. 

But now, there was an insecurity creeping in. Did I deserve to have all this? What had I even done, that people liked me, stuck around me, idolized me, and even promised to stay in touch no matter what...someday, I needed to become worthy of all this. Someone needed to tell me that I wasn't as bad as I thought - and even if I was, it had its own place. 

Akshay gave his speech. Everyone was in tears. He turned to me. 'If you were a raga,' he swallowed a lump in his throat. 'You would be Sindhubhairavi.'

My insecurities were gone. Sleep came easy, and I succumbed to the night. 

Chapter 24 - The Train

I awoke to the sun shining calmly to my left, a landscape of sparse vegetation with concrete structures looming over our vehicle. 

We were in Delhi.

I rubbed my tired eyes and saw Akash behind me, fast asleep. Naman was wide awake, having slept early last night. All of us simply wanted to get to our respective homes as soon as possible. 

'Kashmere Gate!'

I was making my grave in the music club room. Everything had been packed. There was nothing there except for Nandini's interface and mic, and my keyboard. I was recording frantically in my last days here. 

I saw Sneha waiting outside. I decided to complete it later - only the writing was left - and joined her. Rahul soon came along. 

'What's up?' she asked me. I had a feeling that question wasn't as casual as she had made it sound. 

Me and Naman made our way down the metro stairs, to catch the train going towards Rajeev Chowk. As we stood on the platform, he opened his precious Lays packet. 

I looked at him. 'Don't you want to save this?'

He shrugged. I smiled and took a piece. 

We were standing behind IC - me, Sneha and Rahul. It was raining hard, with a gusty wind. We could see the curtains of water being rippled by the strong breeze, and waited with kiddish delight as the curtains hit us. 

The metro was surprisingly packed for 7 in the morning. I charged my phone for as long as I could, and sent my parents a message that I would be home in an hour. 

'Rajeev Chowk Station.'

I said a quick goodbye to Naman, and wrestled my way through the doors. I saw his train leave. We shall do this again, I thought to myself. 

I finished my grave, and stood in the room, not knowing what to do. I finally went to the bathroom, washed the brushes and my hands, turned off the lights and left. 

Life throws at us the most poignant of moments when we are at our stupidest.

I boarded the train going towards Vaishali. Surprisingly, this train was empty. I took a seat and relaxed. It would be a good forty minutes.

Rohit, Vikram, Akshay and me were jamming at the entrance of the auditorium. We came to the Ragamalika swarams. Akshay sang Bindumalini.

I had no idea about Bindumalini. I decided to do Nalinakanti.

He smiled. He knew what to do. 

Then followed Maand, Shankarvaani and finally, Sindhubhairavi.

Rahul, Nityasa, Akshay and me. The people and the ragas were now inseparable. 

We came back to Charukeshi, and he ended the jam. We sat there in silence. There was nothing else left to do. 

People kept leaving the train as Vaishali neared - soon, me and a young girl were the sole occupants of the coach. We soon struck up a conversation. It turned out she was in her third year in college.

'So, what's it like? The final year?'

I smiled in spite of myself. This was going to take a long time.

'Danish bhaiyya,' Aparna rasped through the phone. It sounded like she had lost her voice. 'I'll come meet you. Please come outside Ashok.'

It was 2 am. Fortunately, me and Akshay were still up, not able to go to sleep ourselves. 

We met her by the harsh incandescent light that shone outside the L&T office in front of Ashok. Her eyes looked very heavy. 

'Bye bye, Danish bhaiyya. I'll miss you,' she finally ended. 

'Go study, man. And take care of your throat,' were my last words to her.

I almost slapped myself in the train. That was what I had said to her, in my parting moments. I couldn't drop the fourth-year mask for even a second.

It's fine, I'll learn, I thought. I was going back to take her and the others on a trip - maybe that would serve to be a better ending. 

How easily we assumed our respective roles as seniors; we had so much impact on their lives, in ways neither of us really understood. We were still stupid and unpredictable - we had just been so for a couple of years more than them. What right did we have to lecture them, guide them, criticize them?

I had done much worse. It didn't matter what my intentions were - giving all the importance to intentions was selfish. A noble intent didn't wipe the slate clean. I had manipulated, calculated and gauged people, acted accordingly and tried causing them just the right amount of pain. 

I'm sorry, everyone. I'm sorry for believing pain, insecurity and suffering helps us grow. I'm sorry for advocating and even practicing this philosophy in Raag. I'm sorry for trying to be the senior I knew I couldn't be. I'm sorry for portraying this outward sense of confidence to hide the intense uncertainty inside. I'm sorry for causing pain.

I'm sorry for apologizing in thin air inside an empty coach and typing all this out in the comfort of my home, rather than saying all this when I had the chance to. 

'Vaishali Metro Station. This is the last stop.'

I alighted slowly, with small, guilty steps. I took the last sip of water from my bottle and turned.

The doors of the train closed, and left - empty at last. Perhaps it was all for the best. 

Chapter 25 - Catharsis

'Bhaiya, I'll take you to Orange County for 70 rupees.'

'I won't give you more than 40.'

'Is 50 fine?'

I nodded. This happened every time, like clockwork. 

The rickshaw set off along familiar roads, taking familiar turns and evading familiar potholes. 

I cycled to Sneha's house. The turn from Meera Bhavan, another past the circle, a quick left turn, and one sharp right - there I saw it. The home I had been to quite often - always welcome for a meal. I still had no idea how I was invited every time. 

I went in, and sat down on the familiar sofa. 

'Danish, you like curd rice, right?'

'Love it,' I grinned, and made my way to the dining table. I had a feeling I was going to eat a lot tonight.

I passed Ramprastha Greens. Home was near now. 

I was almost done with curd rice. Sneha had sat the entire time, watching me eat. Srishty had gone over to her friend's house and had come back. I was still eating. The curd rice was perfect - I just missed the pomegranate. 

'Danish!' Sneha's mother called out from the fridge, triumphantly holding a pomegranate in her right hand. 

Oh My God. If this didn't make me cry...

 I was staring at the road as the rickshaw pulled up at Gate no. 3 of Orange County. I got off, paid the man and entered the society. It started drizzling.

'There's a song I composed for the five of you. It's called Gone. I would like you to listen to it as soon as I leave.'

Sneha nodded. I waited for her to say something.

'Please go before I start crying again.'

I nodded and pedaled away on the cycle. The library now. 

I walked towards Tower No. 16. I could see my balcony now. I turned left and went up the stairs.

Nandini sat beside me, intently listening to the song on my headphones. It was 16 minutes long - I would have to wait. I had the same exam she did the next day - but by now I was beyond caring.

The song was done. She got up and handed me my headphones and laptop. 'I'll drop you outside.'

Outside the library, I gave her a half-hug. She told me to go study for the exam, knowing I wouldn't. I told her I would, knowing I wouldn't. I rode away. ANC, now. 

I reached the first floor. I could hear the comings and goings of the newspaper guy, the milkman, the garbage-collector and the maids. Just one more flight of stairs.

Me and Nityasa sat outside ANC. She was listening to the song; I was waiting. The song ended.

Wordlessly, she got up, and hugged me. I looked into her eyes for a second, and left. 

Second floor. I was standing outside my home. One of my shoelaces came undone. I bent down and tied them. Still I stood around, waiting for some other excuse to stall, so this journey wouldn't officially be over. But it had to be over - delaying it did nothing. 

I was in Akshay's room. I plugged the laptop in, gave him my headphones, and played the song. I would give the song to Rahul tomorrow - it was past 1 am. 

I faintly heard the first few lines of my song, and I saw Akshay's face. Even as I was sitting in the room, I felt like I had already left. 

The rain outside had gotten stronger. What was it with farewells and rain? 

I sighed. It was 8 am. Time to go home.

No way but forward, right?

"For in the end, all the love and laughter, anger and pain...

Will all be in vain...

Like tears in the rain..."

'Knock knock.'

Reminisce

Chapter 16 - Vertigo

I awoke to the soft whistling of the wind, ruffling the tiny flap in the tent I had left open. It was 4 am. Time to leave for Shivling.

I jumped up, fuelled by the excitement and the impending sense of danger. Everyone had warned us against going on this trek, especially so early. People usually went in July, when the snow was something you admired from a distance. There were possibilities of avalanches, snowstorms, frostbite - even a steep fall, hurtling towards unforgiving rocks. 

In for a penny, in for a pound. 

We had a quick breakfast of Maggi and vegetable khichdi, and packed small bags, leaving the rest in the hut. The cloud cover had gotten denser - but Happy and Pramod shrugged it off.

'We'll be going through a small descent. There is another route, called Danger Point, but we'll choose that on our way back, when the clouds disperse.'

We walked upwards from Ganesh Camp till we'd reached the top, and took a peek downwards to see the steepest descent I had ever seen. 

Gloomy clouds had obscured our every step, with no sight of the bottom. After every metre, a new landscape was revealed to us, like we were entering The Wardrobe in every new world. It only boosted my confidence. 

"Do not go gentle into that good night,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light..." - Dylan Thomas

It seemed to never end, like we were traversing the belly of an infinite beast. The fog kept thickening, and monstrous shapes and silhouettes reared themselves at every turn, revealing themselves later to be harmless trees and shrubs. 

Perhaps we fear the silhouettes and shapes of things rather than their actual forms, and that is what holds us back. 

Suddenly, flowering shrubs became visible. Happy stopped to tell us about a multi-purpose plant - the pink rhododendron. It is the state flower of Himachal Pradesh. The locals use it for ornamentation, flavouring, weaving clothes and bags, and even for making liquor. 

After crossing the field of pink and white, we finally glimpsed the bottom, calling out to us like a shrine in a jungle. I could hear the trickling of water close by. We hit the bottom and set down our bags, retrieving our bottles for a change of water. 

We soon saw yellow rhododendrons - yet another regular plant in Kinnaur district. It reminded me of the rhododendron sanctuary I had visited in Sikkim in my childhood. 

Soon, we saw the sun come out on one side of the sky, with heavy clouds refusing to leave on the other. It was as if night and day had intruded upon the same spot at the same time, and were fighting for control. I could feel the tussle between my various moods too, being called upon like allies by the Yin and Yang I saw in front of me. 

Finally, the day won, and the clouds parted. We could see the entire, beautiful panorama from our little brook. Pramod and Happy took photos, while Akash and Naman rested, looking up at the incline we couldn't believe we had just conquered. 

I looked up at the infinite sheet of snow we had to span, starting at our feet and ending in the high mountains. It was far from over. 

Chapter 17 - And Then There Were None

'All right, people,' Happy boomed. 'Today you will learn how to walk on a slant, snow-covered, slippery mountain slope despite having completely ill-equipped Nike shoes,' he grinned his widest. 'Ram your foot into the snow, sideways, against the incline. Rest all your weight on that small cavity that is formed, and do the same with the other foot. Preferably, just strengthen the footings that your friend in front of you is making.' 

I slowly put a foot onto the frosty ground and promptly slipped.

It was a matter of minutes; we were almost gliding across the snow. Naman and Akash followed suit. Akash was having some problems, probably because he wasn't able to dig his feet into the snow, and his shoes didn't have the bare-minimum grip required to keep balance. But we were steadily going upwards. The air was getting thinner and colder, and I could feel the cold seeping into my feet. 

Me and Naman crossed the first glacier and made our way up the rocks, climbing with both hands and feet. We looked back to see Pramod and Happy signalling us to wait. We halted. What was wrong?

'All right, here's the deal.' Happy had a very serious edge to his voice. 'Looking at your speeds, I think only Danish will be able to make it to Shivling. Akash, I think you should stay here - Naman, you climb up till 12:30, then wait. I will stay with you two - Pramod will go with Danish.'

I didn't like splitting up like this, leaving them behind - but I wanted to see Shivling.

'Nobody feel bad, please. This is pure logistics. This always happens in a group, there are various degrees of stamina. As long as we don't hold each other back, it'll be fine.' Happy took his stick and started climbing down. 'I'll take Akash down and come back for you, Naman. Danish, go with Pramod.'

I looked back at the two of them. They nodded. I sighed and followed Pramod into the ice. 

Little did I know I was going to face the biggest challenge to my stamina, my willpower - even my life.

Chapter 18 - There And Back Again

Me and Pramod set off, climbing up another trail we found, half-buried beneath the snow that had just fallen. In front of me was a parallel universe, made of the colours dark brown, white and sky blue. 

We came across a small cave. I set my bag down, panting heavily. It seemed of no use, as my breaths seemed to give nothing but emptiness to my lungs,

'Dalai Lama has taken shelter in this cave.' Pramod pointed to the outer wall, which had faint writings. 'He is the one who put Reckong Peo - and this trail - on the map. Many people return from this cave, which is at 4400m above sea level.'

I looked at him questioningly.

'We're not returning,' he smirked. 'Come on,' he slapped me strongly on my back. 'Your lungs will get used to it in a while.'

Probably my great-grandson's lungs, if I marry a Sherpa and my son marries a Sherpa and so does my grandson, I thought quietly to myself. And if he's born in this cave. 

The clouds seemed to roll in from nowhere. We were at a point where I could see the mist being released from the icy stream and collecting in a dense pocket, forming the intimidating cluster of deceptive transparency we knew as a cloud. 

Pramod moved on, unmindful of the cloud. 'The only way to avoid a storm, is to leave it behind you. Don't hide, don't run from it; walk right through it.'

Well, if that isn't a metaphor for life, I don't know what is. 

We walked inside the cloud, stepping over huge rocks and trudging through snow. The air kept thinning, and my legs were now starting to rebel, groaning with every movement, wincing with every landing. After a while, it was sheer willpower taking me forward.

For there was no way but forward. 

"I have to go, I have to go,

For I have seen this storm before...

And when it ends,

You'll find my body washed ashore..."

 'Happy birthday, Danish!' A sea of voices chorused through the speaker of my phone. I smiled. They hadn't forgotten me. In fact, there were new people who hadn't even seen me yet, wishing me with the sincerity of an old friend. 

Only Raag, I thought. 

'Acapapa...acapapa...happy birthday...' I grinned. Hallelujah and Can't Help Falling In Love With You. Akshay was a stickler for Easter eggs. 

'... to you...' Nandini sang the komal dha. A sea of memories engulfed me; a series of images of the staircase, music club, Raag room, chamber concerts, performances...like a child's flipbook. The faces kept coming back. 

I was going there, wasn't it? Three more months - I would see them, it was fine. But I would be back again. Back to Bangalore, back to a parallel universe of grey, white and sky blue. 

Have faith, everything will be all right, they said. Who can really promise that?

'Bhai,' Pramod pierced through a year's worth of memories and brought me back. 'We're here. Well done.'

I couldn't believe my eyes and ears. Then the clouds parted to reveal a tiny slab of rock perched atop a spire of stone. Shivling. 

'Fifteen minutes of walking - we reach Parvati Kund. Then, depending on the weather, we decide whether it's safe to climb Shivling or not.'

I ascended with a new energy flowing through my veins - who needed oxygen, or glucose, or water? I was channeling some paranormal force that was keeping me moving for the sole reason that we could.

Only forward.

There was some paranormal force connecting us, keeping us in sync. This chamber concert  was different. Akshay knew the exact phrases the Raga deserved, Rahul played like an enigma - decoding the beat pattern and playing the exact naadams according to the mood. I could sense what emotion and note was wanted and accompanied along, letting it all flow like a confluence of three streams into a mighty river. 

MGRSD....Akshay hit the komal dha, and Rahul stopped playing. I let go of the chord, it's silent reverberation completing the moment.

Nostalgia is in the spaces. So is music. 

'Parvati Kund, we've made it. I don't believe it.' Pramod was stunned. Together, we had found some fountain of cosmic youth and powered our way through fatigue, cold and suffocation to reach our destination with half an hour to spare. 

It started snowing. I spotted the first snowflake, peering at it closely, looking for the hexagonal fractal pattern that encoded the secret of life itself. It floated down and rested on my eyelash. I could see it's blurry outline and fuzzier geometry, seconds before it melted into nothingness. 

Then it grew heavier, blanketing the snowy terrain with more layers. I knew the answer - we couldn't make the climb. Walking was one thing, and rock-climbing on snow-covered, avalanche-prone boulders was another. 

'It's okay,' Pramod said, removing a coconut and a packet of milk from my bag. 'We'll give an offering here at Parvati Kund and leave. If not for the snow, we would have gone up.'

'Where is it?'

He pointed to a huge rock, following a small descent, about 200m away. 

'Okay,' I started.

He stopped me. 'Shoes off.'

It was -10 degrees. I stared at him like he was crazy.

'Hey, it's a temple.'

I smiled. All of this was surreal anyway. Fine, shoes off. 

We reached the rock. I saw him break the coconut and open the packet of milk.

This was the purpose of religious expeditions and voyages, wasn't it? The journey - it changed you. It made you stronger, more tolerant, less petty...you learned about other people's problems and the things that made them happy...you judged everyone less, and most importantly - you found your chaos in this chaotic mess. 

The milk flowed down the rocks and froze in mid-air, forming a milk stalactite. I broke it off and tasted it.

I laughed heartily, tears almost forming in my eyes with the profoundness of the moment. I now knew what faith was. 

Faith isn't believing everything will be all right - faith is believing that even if it isn't, it's all right.

The snow fell heavily, covering us like confetti. 'Let's go,' Pramod said. He placed a hand on my shoulder. 'Next time, we're climbing this.'

Needless to say, the way back was easier. 

Chapter 19 - Requiem For A Dream

Descending was a lot faster. My lungs had gotten used to the low pressure, and were breathing normally. I was jumping down upon rocks and hurtling through snow like I belonged there.

We spotted tiny paw-prints near one of the bigger rocks. Pramod told me there were many snow leopards around, and it was common to spot them in July or August. I really wanted to follow those footprints, but we had to get back before dusk. 

It took about fifteen minutes to get a glimpse of Happy and Naman, sitting on the glacier, having made their own little adventure while we'd been away. Even they had seen some of the snow, though not as heavy. 

Me and Pramod narrated everything that had happened to Happy and Naman, sipping our last batch of Glucon-D and munching the last of our dry fruits. We realized we'd left Akash by the first glacier, all alone. No one seemed willing to move though - we kept staring at the mountains and clouds. 

I could sense that at some level, we all wished to live, if only for a few moments, outside our corporeal forms; our minds to fly free, unattached, unbound. 

We finally continued downwards to Akash. Together, we moved on to Danger Point. It was a series of seven glacier crossings, each more slippery and unstable than the next - especially in this transition period. We all moved as a group, looking out for each other. 

After crossing Danger Point, we paused for a while just above the brook. I looked down at the yellow rhododendrons and the endless glacier going right down to where the first tributary began. I suddenly felt like it had gotten over too soon. That high point, and then - back to the ground, to reality. 

'Danish, can I be honest with you, just this once?'

I waited.

'I'm disappointed with you. I'm sorry, I didn't expect this.'

I looked back at everything I had done in Bangalore. It had been exciting, fun, a new kind of thrill, a different level of ecstacy and bliss. Cycling to Mysore, the trek to Bandaje Falls, Avala Betta, Nandi Hills, the food trips, the open mic nights in Humming Tree, the short trip to Chennai, the family expedition to Coorg and Chikmaglur, all the cooking and experimenting, the monthly visits to NCBS, meeting and interacting with so many new people...yet somewhere, I had hurt a few people - directly or indirectly, knowingly or unknowingly, and disappointed those who cared about me.

We would all love to go through life, helping as many people as possible - but maybe the most we can hope for is hurting as little. 

We sat beside the brook, stretched our cramped and worn-out legs, and immersed our aching toes in the water, feeling the blood rush through our limbs. Akash looked at me and smiled, 'How was it?'

What was I to say? I looked back at the clouds engulfing the entire route we had just covered, showering down layer upon layer of snow, erasing our footprints like we'd never even been there. 

And one day, time would remove all signs of our existence - so the only moments that mattered were the ones we were in.

Do not miss what happened, for then you're missing what's happening. 

'Come on, everyone. Let's get back to Ganesh Camp. It's evening.' Happy grunted.

I got up, looking back at Shivling. We had been to another realm in mere hours. I looked back up at the ascent, pink and yellow and green. We would be scaling this too, in a matter of minutes. It seemed like we were all inside an adventure storybook. And it was ending.

Chapter 20 - The Bucket List

We went back up - all of us were down to the very last reserves of our energy. Even though we were taking it slow, our bodies refused to move. The only thing that kept us going was the fact that our tents were waiting for us to snuggle in.

That barely helped.

I heard about Rakshit's farewell. It was a different feeling, hearing about the shows, the fun sessions and the farewell from a thousand miles away. 

He gave pointers to everyone - music was not to be taken lightly, practice and dedication was something we owed to it. 

I sat guiltily in the tiny hall of our room, my borrowed keyboard and flutes in front of me. What had I achieved in these three years? Nothing, really. A bit of this, a piece of that, an attempt in this direction, an endeavour in this field...was that all I would be?

This wasn't done. I had to do something, make a mark at least on myself, finish something I would be proud of. No more half attempts.

I took a piece of paper and a pen. 

I was halfway through, my breaths coming in short, rugged gasps. I had taken this up - I had to see it through to its very end. No excuses. 

Behind me, I saw Naman and Akash standing near a pink rhododendron shrub, resting. Happy was with them, making sure they were all right. He had left me alone, in the confidence that I would surely make it. 

People expected things from me - things I wasn't sure I could deliver. Although ideally that shouldn't be a criteria, on some level people's opinions do matter; on a holistic scale, for your self-worth and self-esteem in whatever you do. 

But what is this line? Where does comparison, competition, critique and correction end, and pure art begin? When are we free from the human corruption of whatever we do, and submit to the higher channel we're all paying tribute to?

Whatever that line was, it was a long way ahead of me. 

I reached the top, glimpsing Pramod, a few metres ahead of me, carrying a bundle of sticks. I followed him slowly. I had made it. Now, we would wait for the others with noodles ready on the plates. 

'So, did you like Himachal Pradesh?' Pramod asked, stirring the boiling pot, filling the hut with steam and the smell of spices and kerosene. 

'Loved it,' I whispered back. 'I want to do more treks.' I said, louder this time.

'Of course. You can easily do any trek now, I'm sure. This was the hardest trek in Himachal Pradesh - and that too in mid-August. You've done it in early May, that's incredible.'

I smiled. I wasn't that bad, it seems. Something would become of me, after all. 

I browsed through my laptop. Artworks, compositions, articles, poems, stories, songs - there was enough good, enough mediocrity, and enough worthlessness there to make me realize that there was still miles to go, and I would probably be able to travel them. 

'You know what,' Rahul's words came back to me. 'Let's keep doing this.'

All five of us sat around the stove, hungrily devouring our soupy noodles. Happy narrated his story; his troubles in his adolescence, his drive to popularize Himachal Pradesh and it's local activities, and his various projects. 

With the help of college students and fellow enthusiasts, he planned to uncover unmapped routes and places in the state, and discover new peaks and trails. These would be fun, challenging treks, and would also reveal some untapped resources and chart new paths for the local police and the army. I told him about the Search and Rescue team sponsored by the Indian Government, and he said he'd look it up. It was something common to both of us - exploring the unknown. 

'I just want to do something new, man,' Happy concluded, putting down his plate and reaching for a bottle of water. 

'Don't we all,' I thought, taking a gulp from the bottle he passed me. 'Let's all do something new, and in a month, we'll have changed the world.' 

Akash and Naman were fast asleep. I exited the hut and made my way to my tent. I crept into my sleeping bag, struggling with the tent's flap. The wind was much stronger tonight, nipping at my exposed fingers. I was exhausted beyond my limits, for the first time. Dreams would not come. 

Tomorrow, we were going back. 

'Tanmay, take this.'

'What is this?'

'It's a chord chart. Shows the finger placements of all the possible chords on the guitar. Thought you might find it useful.'

He looked at me and smiled. 'Thanks, man.' I nodded and went to my usual sleeping place, the couch. Somehow I was most comfortable there. 

That night, I heard him strumming a beautiful tune. As I would find out later, it was his own composition. Right before I drifted off to sleep, all the best moments that had ever happened to me passed right before my eyes, leaving phantom emotions in their wake. I tried to grab all of them, experience them again, before I drifted off to another dream. 

Tanmay played a shuddh Ga, changing the scale. I recognized it. Charukeshi. My eyes closed.

Tomorrow, I was going back. 

"I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand —
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep — while I weep!
O God! Can I not grasp 
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem

But a dream within a dream?"