<p>Once, a couple of us were walking through a boulder-strewn path in the Himalayas. What began as a light drizzle at the head of our trek turned into a steady shower. There was no going back, because the tents we left behind were being dismantled.<br /><br />While they could be erected again with a little effort , a couple of early birds in our group had already forged ahead an hour ago. We could not possibly leave them in the lurch by staying back. So, we decided to brave the inclement weather towards Seri Valley — our destination.<br /><br />The obstacle-riddled path appeared to be more challenging when we had to cross a moraine, some newly formed streams and a little stretch of ice. The continuous rain and the dipping temperature proved to be quite a menace.<br /><br />A slip here and a fall there amid wiping the water off the spectacles slowed me down. Benumbed hands failed to feel the little icicles falling all over and around us. The colourful and beautiful flowers that bordered our path at times had to be sadly ignored because personal comfort appeared to be more important than “stopping by to smell the flowers.”<br /><br />Conversation almost came to a standstill with exceptions when we had to seek one another’s help. Gusts of cold wind blew about; we trudged along cold, wet and hungry. When it became increasingly difficult, we sighted a frail little open yellow tent among the rocks. Our escort prompted us to seek shelter there till the storm passed.<br /><br />We found a lone shepherd huddled in blankets in the tiny tent. He ushered us in without a word. He shared his humble bed and let us use it, though we were drenched to our very bones. Just when I thought that his cup of mercy had overflowed, he allowed us to build a fire with his precious little stock of firewood.<br /><br />A couple of hours passed. He answered our many queries but asked no questions of us. His body language did not display resentment, so we stayed on. The rains subsided. It was time to move on. We thanked him profusely for the hospitality. He nodded and asked us to reach our camp before the next spell of rains set in.<br /><br />Some experiences in life do have a wonderful way of tweaking our path and make us reflect on existential questions. He seemed to be the essence of Sanghajeevi (social being) for Lokasangraha (betterment of the world). I simply could not stop thinking of experiencing serendipity in the wilderness.</p>
<p>Once, a couple of us were walking through a boulder-strewn path in the Himalayas. What began as a light drizzle at the head of our trek turned into a steady shower. There was no going back, because the tents we left behind were being dismantled.<br /><br />While they could be erected again with a little effort , a couple of early birds in our group had already forged ahead an hour ago. We could not possibly leave them in the lurch by staying back. So, we decided to brave the inclement weather towards Seri Valley — our destination.<br /><br />The obstacle-riddled path appeared to be more challenging when we had to cross a moraine, some newly formed streams and a little stretch of ice. The continuous rain and the dipping temperature proved to be quite a menace.<br /><br />A slip here and a fall there amid wiping the water off the spectacles slowed me down. Benumbed hands failed to feel the little icicles falling all over and around us. The colourful and beautiful flowers that bordered our path at times had to be sadly ignored because personal comfort appeared to be more important than “stopping by to smell the flowers.”<br /><br />Conversation almost came to a standstill with exceptions when we had to seek one another’s help. Gusts of cold wind blew about; we trudged along cold, wet and hungry. When it became increasingly difficult, we sighted a frail little open yellow tent among the rocks. Our escort prompted us to seek shelter there till the storm passed.<br /><br />We found a lone shepherd huddled in blankets in the tiny tent. He ushered us in without a word. He shared his humble bed and let us use it, though we were drenched to our very bones. Just when I thought that his cup of mercy had overflowed, he allowed us to build a fire with his precious little stock of firewood.<br /><br />A couple of hours passed. He answered our many queries but asked no questions of us. His body language did not display resentment, so we stayed on. The rains subsided. It was time to move on. We thanked him profusely for the hospitality. He nodded and asked us to reach our camp before the next spell of rains set in.<br /><br />Some experiences in life do have a wonderful way of tweaking our path and make us reflect on existential questions. He seemed to be the essence of Sanghajeevi (social being) for Lokasangraha (betterment of the world). I simply could not stop thinking of experiencing serendipity in the wilderness.</p>
