THREE LESSONS FROM HIMALAYAS

Recently, I visited a remote Himalayan hamlet in Uttarakhand — not as a typical tourist in search of temporal relief from the unbearable heat, but as a wanderer, a seeker or a student of life. Well, I am aware of my addiction to the privileges associated with my urban/ metropolitan existence. I have tasted the fruits of modernity, development and a market-driven economy. Yet, I have no hesitation in saying that this time, this silent Himalayan village taught me three important lessons that my modernity or university education could seldom offer It is sad that the legacy of Sunderlal Bahuguna and Chandi Prasad Bhatt has almost been forgotten in the hill state. First, it was really great to feel, realise and internalise the power of silence. Think of the noise associated with our urban/metropolitan existence. The noise of television channels, loud music and constant bombardment of WhatsApp messages causing some sort of psychic pollution. Or, think of the fetish for speed we have begun to worship in our times. We are continually running after some sort of over- consumptionist mode of living.

Is it that we are afraid of silence? But then, as I move around this village without any ‘goal’, I begin to realise the beauty of the art of doing nothing. And this relief from my hurried existence makes me realise the beauty and power of silence. The snow-clad peaks, the whispers of pine trees, the rhythmic play of butterflies and tiny yellow flowers, the slowness in the movement of an old lady walking through the rhythmic curved path, and the mystic presence of the fold of mountains: everything around me tends to detox my mind. I become light — free from the noise inside. This inner richness tends to free me from the practice of over-consumption that destroys the earth.

Second, I learn the art of relatedness. In the achievement-oriented/ hyper- competitive/ professional world, we often carry the heavy burden of our egos — our degrees and diplomas, our official powers and salary packages, or our wealth and status. And these egos disrupt the rhythm of holism, interconnectedness and a network of organic relationships. However, in this Himalayan village, as I find myself amid the majestic mountain peaks, the dense forest filled with extraordinarily graceful trees, the vast sky not yet blocked by huge towers and gigantic skyscrapers, and the chirping of birds (something that seems to have completely disappeared from our cities), I realise that it is futile to exist as a solitary, egotistic and possessive individual. I feel that I am not different from this entire ecosystem. In a way, it activates my ecological consciousness. Third, I learn the futility of competition. As I look at the garland of trees, I realise that there is no standardised notion of ‘perfection’; in fact, each tree is unique and has its own story to tell.

The gentle anarchy I experience as I walk through the Himalayan Forest makes me realise the hollowness in our quest for standardised/ homogenised aspirations (say, all beauty queens look similar; or, all our school ‘toppers’ want to become doctors/ computer engineers). In fact, this striving for a ‘perfect’ and standardised notion of beauty and excellence has created a neurotic culture that causes psychic anxiety and restlessness because of constant comparison with others. In the natural world, there is no competition. A butterfly does not compete with a leopard; a tall pine tree does not want to touch the Nanda Devi peak; and the valleys and the peaks know the beauty of their coexistence.

Yes, my walk through the Himalayan path tends to make me a seeker or a wanderer. I begin to appreciate the value of these three lessons that no modern university can teach me — the power of silence, the spirit of holism or inter-connectedness, and the beauty of gentle anarchy. begin to appreciate a mode of living that cherishes minimalism and simplicity. Well, I know that pragmatic economists and development experts would remind me of the limits to my ‘poetic romanticism’.

Uttarakhand is repeatedly witnessing the devastating consequences of this sort of ‘development’ in the form of flash floods, landslides, earthquakes and forest fires. The climate emergency is here. Let Uttarakhand not imitate this mode of development. Instead, the lessons I have learned from this silent Himalayan village, I pray, should give us some insights for saving our earth and healing our tormented/ violent selves.

(This article is published on the occasion of World Sauntering Day this month. This day is observed annually to remind people to slow down and enjoy life as much as possible instead of always rushing. This day also reminds us to take it easy, take time to smell roses, take time to see nature that is so beautiful, look at the sky and enjoy life.)

Source: Himalayan News Chronicle