It had been a journey of disillusionment. The shattering of an illusion that I would, at least this once, make my parents happy.
They didn’t like the food. ‘Everything has onion garlic in it’, they made faces before the polite gentle Ladhaki waiters in the restaurants and embarrassed the hell out of me.
They didn’t like the Buddha. ‘It is the same Buddha, the same Gompa everywhere you go’, they said, refusing to climb a few steps to some of the famed monasteries I urged them to come to.
When they did come to a few of the Gompas, it was as if they were doing me a favour. They made faces, blaming me as if, for all their exhaustion.
My mother kept clucking her tongue every time I slowed the taxi down, for a photograph.
Everyday they kept harassing me to cancel the visit to Srinagar and to make bookings to return to Delhi via the Manali bus. The valley had been in the news again.
When a young and rash driver, driving us to Nubra valley, turned nasty and uncooperative, refusing to slow down or to go to this spot or that, I told him to behave better. My dad took the driver’s side and shut me up and kept praising his efficient driving.
After ten hours of journeying to Padum in the Zanskar valley, the taxi finally stopped. I got out and went looking for the guest house owner who was not to be seen. When I returned after several minutes, they snarled at me, “How long? How much more do we have to wait?”, not mindful of the truth that I had journeyed the same distance as them, I was exhausted too.
Eager to reach the moon valley in Lamayuru before evening so I could take some pictures when it was still sunny, I begged them not to break for tea and to allow me to continue journey until we reached Lamayuru. ‘We will have as much tea as we want anywhere anytime, who the hell are you to stop us’ barked my father.
‘Any other cousin of yours would have sit their parents down and poured a cup of tea herself, look at your face in the mirror’, he taunted again that night. Yes, they would pour a cup of tea, nothing more, they would certainly not take their parents to Ladhak, I thought.
Whoever said there are ungrateful children but never unkind parents was wrong.
A few days ago, I received a whatsapp forward about happiness. It said there are four hormones which determine a human's happiness - Endorphins, Dopamine, Serotonin, and Oxytocin. When we exercise, or read or watch funny movies, the body releases Endorphins. When we accomplish many little and big tasks, it releases Dopamine; so we must set goals and achieve them. Serotonin is released when we help others - giving back to society, you know.
And Oxytocin, is released when we become close to other human beings, when we hug our friends or family.
Very easy and simple, it made it sound.
I replied to the message that the first three are in our hands, sure, but Oxytocin is pure destiny.
Because there are some people who exist solely to resent and disapprove of others. When you go to them and hug them, they will whiplash you. And if you have very bad karma on your head, you will be born to two of these people.
There was curfew in parts of Srinagar. Our taxi ride to the airport was uneventful. At security, my nail-cutter was taken away, my father had to give up a bunch of bananas. Srinagar was special.
The Delhi airport surprised me. There were pigeons inside walking all over the lounge, perched up on the beams, I don’t think I saw them flapping wings though…
It was a quiet and bland journey back to Bangalore.
2 comments:
I can relate to this post so much. You have touched the bitter side of traveling. I can go on and on about how you have spoke my mind, but anyway, thanks for writing this.
Sure, thanks for stopping by... and thanks for not telling me we should be all be grateful to our parents, they bring us into the world, they make supreme sacrifices for us....and so on...
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