It’s 1.50am on a Saturday night, I’m unwell, but I can’t sleep. Plus I’ve been meaning to blog for a while, so this is as good a time as any.
This time last Saturday, I was in Bir, Himachal Pradesh, slightly stoned and very happy. For the first time in my life, I had a four-day weekend off, and instead of going home, I went on a trip with a friend. In the first week of March, I wrote that I wanted, no needed, to do something crazy, like bungee jumping, and in the last week of March, I did. This has literally never happened with me in the past, considering I am 100% not an adrenaline junkie.
When we were deciding where to go that long weekend, the names Bir-Billing kept coming up, but the only thing to do there is paragliding, which sounded scary and insane and totally not-me. We kept trying to put off booking the bus tickets because of a host of reasons, until it became clear that if we didn’t book them we wouldn’t be able to go. So finally we decided to go to McLeodganj, and wing it for Bir-Billing. Except that McLeodganj was a shitstorm.
I can’t say much because I also went there from Delhi, but literally half of Delhi was there. It was bursting with people, we were staying in a shit hotel, and we had to walk everywhere. Had it not been for Illiterati Café, I would have started crying. We left that town in 20 hours, after I did some underhanded deal to get some hash, which after frantic Googling, my friend and I confirmed was the same thing as charas. I know, didn't instill any confidence in us either.
The drive from McLeodganj to Bir was gorgeous enough to lift our spirits, and when we reached our resort in Bir, it was clear that we’d stepped into Eat Pray Love land. There were just trees and butterflies and dogs and three people serving us average food and dubious looking nimbu-paani. The weather app was telling us that it could rain any time, so when we were asked if we wanted to go paragliding right away, we said yes without thinking too much about it.
Sleep-deprived and a little grumpy, we got into the car that would take us to Billing, the world’s second-highest paragliding site. The road trip was scary intense, and my friend and I held hands the whole time. The only time we felt vaguely okay was when Main Hoon Hero Tera came on the music player of the car, and she said, ‘Bhai hamare saath hain’. We giggled and prayed and second guessed the entire thing, and somehow reached Billing, which was breathtaking. The snow-capped mountains were just a stone’s throw away, and while I was busy clicking pictures, my friend was losing her shit.
She didn’t want to do it, she didn’t want to die, and she was shaking a little bit. I was surprisingly game for the whole thing, or maybe I wasn’t trying to freak her out more. I’m not sure, because before I knew it, she had run off a cliff and was in the air. Within two minutes, a big backpack was being strapped on to me and I was also being told to run off a cliff with my pilot. Um, no freaking way, I thought, as I ran. The next thing I know, I’m flying. I’m in the air, in the sky, and everything is tiny as fuck.
It was one of the most exhilarating experiences of my life, and almost indescribable. My mind went blank and I was just happy. You can see it in my dorky photos and video. When I finally landed, and hurt my ankles, I ran to my still shaken-up friend, who definitely didn’t enjoy it as much as I did. We had some incredible nimbu-paani with trembling hands in the middle of that field, and went back to our resort for a nap.
We woke up four hours later, finally rested and very hungry. We asked for some momos and wai-wai, which were turning out to be our best options for food in the trip. My friend rolled joints, taught me how to, and opened a bottle of wine. Over lots of emotional songs and unnecessary cigarettes, we talked endlessly until the resort dudes brought us dinner. We went to bed with headaches. I woke up in the middle of the night to call my best friend back home, and ask her if I should call my ex (ex? I don’t know what to call him), and ask him if the rumours were true and he was getting married. I don’t remember how she talked me out of it.
For the next couple of days, we literally left that resort only to go to the ATM and a monastery. We stayed in our little cottage, stoned and full of stories, happy, hungry and restless about what we were doing with our lives. When we came back to Delhi, we’d checked off some things off our bucket list, and tried to pretend like that was enough.
***
Two years ago in April, I was asking my boss to be transferred to Jaipur in my old job, and acting like my life was getting over. In my defense, it really did feel that way. Two years later, it’s a different job, but it’s the same city, and when you live in the same city as your past, you sometimes run into it.
I don’t want to write about what happened on Thursday in detail here, because it was equal parts awkward and heart-breaking. For almost 10 minutes, I was pretty certain I was going to start howling in public. I didn’t. The feeling passed, I survived, and I was unexpectedly okay the next morning. What I didn’t know was that I were to have some kind of a blast from the past weekend.
The boy, my ex, whatever, I don’t even know what to call him, he got back in touch, and we seem to be falling back into our exhausting routine while avoiding the question of what the fuck we're really doing.
I don’t know man. I don’t have time for this right now. If everything goes according to plan, my work is about to be tripled in office, and it’s so hot my brain refuses to work half the time.
But hey, at least now I know how to fly.
This time last Saturday, I was in Bir, Himachal Pradesh, slightly stoned and very happy. For the first time in my life, I had a four-day weekend off, and instead of going home, I went on a trip with a friend. In the first week of March, I wrote that I wanted, no needed, to do something crazy, like bungee jumping, and in the last week of March, I did. This has literally never happened with me in the past, considering I am 100% not an adrenaline junkie.
When we were deciding where to go that long weekend, the names Bir-Billing kept coming up, but the only thing to do there is paragliding, which sounded scary and insane and totally not-me. We kept trying to put off booking the bus tickets because of a host of reasons, until it became clear that if we didn’t book them we wouldn’t be able to go. So finally we decided to go to McLeodganj, and wing it for Bir-Billing. Except that McLeodganj was a shitstorm.
I can’t say much because I also went there from Delhi, but literally half of Delhi was there. It was bursting with people, we were staying in a shit hotel, and we had to walk everywhere. Had it not been for Illiterati Café, I would have started crying. We left that town in 20 hours, after I did some underhanded deal to get some hash, which after frantic Googling, my friend and I confirmed was the same thing as charas. I know, didn't instill any confidence in us either.
The drive from McLeodganj to Bir was gorgeous enough to lift our spirits, and when we reached our resort in Bir, it was clear that we’d stepped into Eat Pray Love land. There were just trees and butterflies and dogs and three people serving us average food and dubious looking nimbu-paani. The weather app was telling us that it could rain any time, so when we were asked if we wanted to go paragliding right away, we said yes without thinking too much about it.
Sleep-deprived and a little grumpy, we got into the car that would take us to Billing, the world’s second-highest paragliding site. The road trip was scary intense, and my friend and I held hands the whole time. The only time we felt vaguely okay was when Main Hoon Hero Tera came on the music player of the car, and she said, ‘Bhai hamare saath hain’. We giggled and prayed and second guessed the entire thing, and somehow reached Billing, which was breathtaking. The snow-capped mountains were just a stone’s throw away, and while I was busy clicking pictures, my friend was losing her shit.
She didn’t want to do it, she didn’t want to die, and she was shaking a little bit. I was surprisingly game for the whole thing, or maybe I wasn’t trying to freak her out more. I’m not sure, because before I knew it, she had run off a cliff and was in the air. Within two minutes, a big backpack was being strapped on to me and I was also being told to run off a cliff with my pilot. Um, no freaking way, I thought, as I ran. The next thing I know, I’m flying. I’m in the air, in the sky, and everything is tiny as fuck.
It was one of the most exhilarating experiences of my life, and almost indescribable. My mind went blank and I was just happy. You can see it in my dorky photos and video. When I finally landed, and hurt my ankles, I ran to my still shaken-up friend, who definitely didn’t enjoy it as much as I did. We had some incredible nimbu-paani with trembling hands in the middle of that field, and went back to our resort for a nap.
We woke up four hours later, finally rested and very hungry. We asked for some momos and wai-wai, which were turning out to be our best options for food in the trip. My friend rolled joints, taught me how to, and opened a bottle of wine. Over lots of emotional songs and unnecessary cigarettes, we talked endlessly until the resort dudes brought us dinner. We went to bed with headaches. I woke up in the middle of the night to call my best friend back home, and ask her if I should call my ex (ex? I don’t know what to call him), and ask him if the rumours were true and he was getting married. I don’t remember how she talked me out of it.
For the next couple of days, we literally left that resort only to go to the ATM and a monastery. We stayed in our little cottage, stoned and full of stories, happy, hungry and restless about what we were doing with our lives. When we came back to Delhi, we’d checked off some things off our bucket list, and tried to pretend like that was enough.
***
Two years ago in April, I was asking my boss to be transferred to Jaipur in my old job, and acting like my life was getting over. In my defense, it really did feel that way. Two years later, it’s a different job, but it’s the same city, and when you live in the same city as your past, you sometimes run into it.
I don’t want to write about what happened on Thursday in detail here, because it was equal parts awkward and heart-breaking. For almost 10 minutes, I was pretty certain I was going to start howling in public. I didn’t. The feeling passed, I survived, and I was unexpectedly okay the next morning. What I didn’t know was that I were to have some kind of a blast from the past weekend.
The boy, my ex, whatever, I don’t even know what to call him, he got back in touch, and we seem to be falling back into our exhausting routine while avoiding the question of what the fuck we're really doing.
I don’t know man. I don’t have time for this right now. If everything goes according to plan, my work is about to be tripled in office, and it’s so hot my brain refuses to work half the time.
But hey, at least now I know how to fly.
So, today my silly Timehop app showed me that I saw Uptown Girls like 5 years back (I FEEL OLD) and that I quoted a line from there. Quoting it here "Every story has an ending, but in life every ending is a new beginning".
ReplyDeleteHearing about your stories of being stones makes me feel left out ;)