-Arul Shaji
The other day, my friend Kishan and I were travelling to Chennai by train. Luckily, we got window seats, or rather, we were lucky to even get tickets at all, since it was a tatkal booking. Somewhere around Palakkad, silhouettes of tall hills appeared against the moonlight. The mist surrounding them gave them an otherworldly aura. I poked Kishan to show him the hills. He looked unimpressed.
As the train moved on, more hills appeared. I showed him the hills again. The rude guy casually told me that not everywhere is like Alappuzha and that there are hills even near his home in Thrissur. Bad guy, Kishan. At least he could pretend to be happy to see the hills. Who needs enemies when you have friends like these?
Later, I reflected that what he said is true, there are no hills in Alappuzha. In fact, it is the only district in the entirety of Kerala without hilly terrain or forests. It is a coastal plain with backwaters, canals, and sandy white soil. That probably explains why I get excited seeing hills and mountains.
All these thoughts about mountains brought back an old memory from my early childhood. I was probably in kindergarten, and if the memory were not striking enough, I would not have remembered it. My dad had got me a little book, one of those illustrated children’s books with very little text and a lot of drawings. It was nothing like usual children’s books, very minimalist in colour. The entire book had a black background; the text was white. In the pictures, there were greens, oranges, reds, and browns. The most striking image that I still remember to this day is one of a sunrise. Amid the black background, two brown mountains and a red sun. I am sure that little me would have asked my mom a ton of questions about mountains and whether the sun rose there. This was probably my first encounter with mountains.
Regarding the book, I don’t remember the name or the complete story, but it was something like an old woman living in the mountains, making jam from bright orange-red fruits. I presume a fox or a wolf was involved.
There is beauty in the horizon, and when there are mountains there, it feels as if they are calling out to us to look for the sun there, maybe set out on an unplanned trip to the mountains and see how far we can reach. I have tried it twice or thrice, and I can vouch that the saying that mountains are farther than they appear to be is 100 percent true. Or perhaps I am overestimating my cardiovascular endurance.
Still, I would try again.
The next plan is to convince one of my friends to sign up for a trek to Meesapulimala with me. Let me see how that goes.
CONTRIBUTOR SPOTLIGHT
Arul Shaji is a former consultant and now a competitive exam aspirant. He spends much of his time thinking and a little of it writing, trying to turn passing thoughts into something worth reading.
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