The Trail to Spring

Chapter 17

We reached the New Jalpaiguri station one hour and twenty minutes late.

It was not much of a problem for either me or Rakesh. We had reserved the whole day for our journey. I had my aunt and uncle living here in Siliguri. But obviously, I knew I couldn't visit them. We grabbed a quick breakfast in a hotel and then hired a car to continue on our way to Darjeeling.

As our Honda made through the midst of the tall trees that surrounded the highway, I remembered the last time I had come here with my parents and Grandpa. We had enjoyed a lot in that trip.

After a while, Rakesh poked me on my shoulders and pointed in front. I leaned forward. The towering visage of the Himalayas loomed in front of us. We had arrived at the mountains at last! I sat there mesmerised by the view. I never really told anyone about this but I generally preferred mountains over the seas. Once you let your heart wander into the meandering roads of the mountains, it never leaves it. And this time, I knew that my brother was somewhere up there too!

The car winded its way along the windy mountain road with the cool, pure and sparkly river water of the Teesta flowing down below in the valley. I had heard it almost a million times from Mom that ages ago, all these mountains were under a giant ocean and the movement of tectonic plates caused the Himalayan mountains to rise up and become the world's tallest mountain range. It had been awe inducing the first couple of times but now, I needn't hear it anymore. The fact would automatically begin to play in my head whenever I came to this place.

As we slowly climbed upwards, I began to feel the wind rising and the cold freezing. I realised it would have been sensible to buy some warm clothes back in the plains. Now, only God knew how long I had to wait.

We stopped for lunch in a small restaurant where both of us ordered momos and soup.

"I'll go and walk outside a bit," Rakesh said, after finishing his portion, "I love the mountains."

I paid the bills and joined him in his walk.

"God gave the oceans, the plains, the plateaus and the jungles for his beloved creations to inhabit and prosper. And then as a gift from the heavens, He created the mountains," I said, as we slowly walked along the edge of the road. The green mountains loomed in front of us as if we could just stretch our hands and touch them.

"The Last Mountain Standing," Rakesh and I said in chorus.

He looked at me, his face clearly showing that he was impressed.

"You have read that book?," Rakesh asked. I nodded my head.

"I have read it like a billion times," I said. I was happy that finally I had found something common in between me and the detective, "I really like the way the book was approached with not a single visual reference to the magnificent and awe inducing scenery of the Himalayas and yet the narrator found the mountains so appealing."

"I would really like to read the book again. But mine got lost. I had searched for it everywhere but couldn't find it," Rakesh said in a regretful voice.

He looked up at the sky.

"I always feel like I am part of something awesome when I come here," he said, "The sky seems so much closer."

We walked a bit further. I could hear the chirping of a number of birds from the surrounding trees whose names I didn't know but I could clearly distinguish the call of a cuckoo.

"Come on, let's go back to our car or our dear Sukhiji will throw a fit," he said, turning back. Sukhiji was our driver and a pretty cross one too. He never tired of complaining about his life, and the amount of time his customers wasted by halting at every turn of the road. So we turned back.

The rest of the journey was quite eventless even if not completely void of interest. We had stopped and shopped a bit in Kurseong in the evening because I felt that I would freeze to death if I stayed without warmer clothes any longer. Rakesh was wearing even lesser clothes than me. I bought a full sleeved sweater for him, but he refused to let me buy any more.

I had noticed that the detective was behaving quite oddly since this morning. He was much quieter than before. Of course, I had not known him long enough to judge whether he was behaving out of character or not but he seemed a lot different now that we were in the hills.

I broached the topic about his father again when we stopped to have a cup of coffee and snacks in the Kurseong Coffee House.

"So Rakesh, why do you live in your own little apartment," I said. I had decided that being blunt was the best way forward.

I saw the first signs of temper in him.

"What does it matter to you, Ms. Ganguly?," he snapped, "You know that I am a detective and I am here to help you. Why do you need to know anything more?"

I was taken aback by such a rise in his temper but continued.

"It's the little things that we share amongst ourselves that brings people closer," I said, "It doesn't matter if those little details seem useless or without meaning. This is the way how people make friends and build partnerships. These little details about the person gives you a feeling that you know them just a bit more, just a bit better."

Rakesh remained silent and pointed out of the glass door beside us towards a black bulbul. It was perched on a branch of a coniferous tree with the mountains in the background stretching out and covering the horizon. The scenery looked like it was taken out of a picture book and I thought how cool it would have been if I could draw better and could have brought this scenery to life on a white page. Instead, I took out my phone and clicked a picture of the scenery.

I turned away from the bird to look at Rakesh's expression but I was only greeted by an empty chair.

"If you are looking for the gentleman, he has already left," the waiter pointed out on noticing my surprised look.