Sunday, 28 September 2014

On Blessed Rainy Day and Ephemarality of Thoughts

I have decided not to bore anyone tonight. I am hard pressed to find content fit for the blog without resorting to tabloid tactics or talking about the weather. 

What about the weather? It is getting colder. The night low dipped a few notches almost as if on cue on the 23rd September. What gives? It was the same day as the Blessed Rainy Day, a holiday in Bhutan marking the end of the monsoon, as my friends from the Royal Bhutan Civil Service and Royal Bhutan Forest Service, a jolly bunch, informed me.

What a simple and pleasing name- blessed rainy day!

Rain may have taken leave of Bhutan but not of Mussoorie. It drizzled for sometime, drenching the multi-hued garden dahlias growing wild on the hill sides. The delicate flowers were akin to rain kissed damsels, their flimsy clothes hiding nothing. Only, there was nothing to hide for these flowers. The bees visited, reluctant, hesitant. Cliches abounded, like now.

Post the group formation, a sub-group, namely, couples, formation activity is on. Here, if I delve more into this topic I shall be breaching the 'no gossip' rule I put for myself. However, I shall mention any activity that may be of general public interest without compromising anyone's privacy. We shall cross that bridge when we come across it.

A note on the trek. I noticed that the full moon is on the 8th of October right when we would be in the middle of the long trek in the upper Himalayas. I look forward to 'moonlight on the mountain rivers', mists of love, Milky Way to my heart etc. Though the moon, prima donna that she is, would drown out the light from the stars. I was eagerly looking forward to spotting stars I last saw during my adolescence when I used to sit in the balcony of our place, books in my lap for pretence, gazing at the sky hoping I would catch a glimpse of a shooting star so that I could make a wish to fulfill my boyhood fantasies. No, the fantasies did not come true though events more magical and astonishing than my juvenile mind could fantasize about did come about. Such is life. We wish for something, on a shooting star no less, and something else happens, a cosmic surprise, far outshining and underlining the ephemerality and fickleness of our thoughts. Who am I to complain of my lot?!

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