Didi

The sounds will just never stop. The sound of the leaves dancing to the wind’s rhythm, the sound of various birds chirping, the sound of the cold wind rushing its way, and the sound of the mighty Alakananda flowing at her own pace. Nature has made a pact with us to always keep the richness of her important presence alive, why would the sounds stop?

I breathe in the fresh, crisp air; with each breath I take I realize the essence of simplicity. I realize the need to connect with nature. I can feel the air go in from my nasal cavity, creating a tingling sensation, into my windpipe and into the lungs. Lungs. My lungs feel like young flowers receiving the sun rays that will help them bloom.

I hear another sound. No, it’s not from nature.

It’s from the engine. I stop my bike on the side to check. It has overheated and isn’t turning on. The nearest village is still forty-three kilometers afar. There is not a soul here.

Who do I ask for help? Where do I go? It is going to get darker in three hours, within then I need to secure myself. I must find shelter from this harsh weather and escape the mouths of hungry carnivores.

Not seeing any other option I hold the handle of my bike and start pushing it along with me while I walk. The evening birds are singing their final chorus of the day.

Tall green trees, the sound of the now furious river, the birds' diminishing sounds, and my bike are the only companions of mine in this quest of finding shelter.

I walk and I walk, still not a soul in sight.

Something moves in the bushes behind me. It is quick.

I hear a low growl.

Alarmed, I slowly take a few steps back and try to stay as still as possible. I can sense that even the animal is scared. It slows as it nears the ends of the bushes and emerges out of the bushes proudly.

It is a Vulpes. A cub. They are the subspecies of the Himalayan Fox - Vulpes Vulpes griffithi. It was once seen in Bhujani and Khaliya top areas of Munsiyari. They don’t come down near human civilization unless they have a hint of fresh meat.

It looks at me. I try harder to stay still. It isn’t completely a young cub; it’s a little grown and has its set of teeth. It could tear a piece of flesh right out of me. There’s only a gap of around 7 feet between us.

I think it didn’t sense any danger so it sniffs a couple of times before cautiously moving forward to cross the road. Stops and looks around for any other human traces.

There aren’t any vehicles around here. Maybe about six vehicles pass in an hour, if in the evening hardly two.

It happily crosses the street, jumps onto the other side, and runs away into the wild.

I'm thankful for being alive.

 It is getting colder. I pull out a muffler and gloves and put them on. I’m starting to get scared now. I’m in the middle of a road surrounded by extreme wilderness. The owls are hooting in the distance and it is dark enough to need light now. I take out my head torch and go step by step.

I finally see a house. A tiny house on the edge of the tiny hill to my right. I park my bike below the tree at the start of the cliff, wear my backpack and look around to make sure no one is watching. There’s a man-made path that leads me directly to the front door of the house.