Kindred Spirits

by Ashish Sundar (United Kingdom (Great Britain))

Making a local connection India

“Here comes a taxi – we’ve been walking for hours; please can we catch it?” my cousin Shakthi asked. “Absolutely not – you want to go hiking in a few days and you want to slack off practice now?? Also, we’ve only been walking for forty minutes and we’ll be there soon,” I replied. We were on our way up to Hanuman Tok – a hill that overlooks the city of Gangtok, a mountaintop city whose identity is tied between both India and China while also simultaneously being neither. On top of Hanuman Tok is a Hindu temple which happened to be where we were headed. We had been going by the directions of the mountain folk who decided to make the steep paths their home, but their definition of fifteen minutes was proving to be much longer than that. It was either that my broken Hindi was leading to misunderstandings or that these people were incredibly fit from constantly walking on gradients. Still, we accepted our fate and continued our slog up, and at long last we reached the top. We got there just in time for sunset, except that the skies were completely covered in clouds. While the photographer in Shakthi started to grow disappointed, I drew his attention to the fact that barely anyone was in the temple at this time and in this weather – it was our own personal marble palace shrouded in mist. The long white corridor all the way to the inner sanctum was lined on both sides with bells of differing sizes. We rang every single one of them as we walked through, filling the air with heavy, calming, mystical chords. Satisfied with our mist shrouded shots of the glowing white temple in the backdrop of the matte clouds, we decided to set out back to the city – two hours by walk. We had figured we could get a lift back, or a taxi, both of which quickly proved impossible. Disappointed but not disheartened, we set out on our adventure downhill. The hunger and the slow progress we were making was getting to us, and after walking for fifteen more minutes I thought I could spot some sort of ethereal light shining through the mist near us. I turn around to see a big range rover slowly rolling through the fog. “This is it,” I told Shakthi, “start putting out your hand and let’s try to hitchhike”. “There’s no way they’re going to stop for a couple of foreigners walking down a mountain path at this time – it just screams suspicious,” he replied. “I know, but we may as well try” I responded. The car seemed to roll past us, slightly slowing down. Hoping for the best, we quickened our pace, and the mist was so thick at this point that even if the car had stopped twenty metres ahead, we wouldn’t have seen it. As we jogged forward we see two ominous red lights stare back us, yet it gave us hope as we realised the car did stop for us. We explained that we hadn’t planned ahead and needed a lift to Gangtok, thankfully the people in the car – a woman driving and a man riding shotgun – seemed to understand our situation and responded in English - “Well, what are you waiting for then?! Get in!!” Unable to believe our luck, we got in and the car started rolling forward once again. The people up front told us we were welcome to the bottles of water in the backseat and continued with their conversation while we, with our newfound warmth, looked out the window at the clouds breezing past. Lost in our thoughts, we would occasionally converse with the people up front. We eventually settled into comfortable conversation – none of the meaningless, immediately forgettable introductions or small talk. I forget what it was that we talked about exactly, but I know that a traveller’s bond had been established. Not having found what we set out for – sunset shots – but instead finding that which we all seek – a true connection – one that that isn’t based on give and take but based on company, trust, courage, and kindness, we slept easy that night.