The Sight

'Are you alright?' I probed. Her stride had become visibly labored over the past day. She had once been vibrant, overflowing with excitement on the day we set out. As we had ventured further into our journey, the strain on her body built up and so did my worries.

'How many more kilometers is it to the village?' she asked me, diverging from my question.

'12,' I answered, trying to think of excuses to convince her to stop and think about herself.

'Think you'll be able to make it there?' she joked, making me smile. She wasn't the type to give up on something she'd set out to do. Especially now.

. . .

It's said that there's a remote village tucked away in the Himadri belt of the Himalayas that's unreachable by automobiles. One needs to complete an arduous 25 kilometer trek from the nearest motorable area to find the village. Few people know about it, fewer still know why its (more than) worth the trip.

It's also said that if one were to choose the last place she/he would visit before they departed from this world, none would regret choosing the little village.

Somehow, for better or for worse, she had heard about the village. Its legend deeply intrigued her, and she would keep bugging me to accompany her on her search. I would wave her off by telling her to wait a couple of years until I was established enough to afford a long vacation.

Soon, unfortunately, news came that she got lucky in life, forcing me to fulfill her long-awaited wish. We left for the mountains the following week.

. . .

'This is as far as these motorbikes will go,' our guide told us. 'From here on, you'll have to carry 10 kilogram rucksacks and clamber on rocky trails with heavy mountaineering boots. If you follow the directions along the trail, you'll be able to reach your destination without much difficulty. It is around 5.30 a.m. now; you should be able to reach by 6 in the evening if you keep up a good pace. Remember, it's important to reach before dusk, because at night these mountains turn treacherous.'

'What if the village is all a myth? Have you been there yourself?' I interrogated. I was unsure enough before we started, and now that we were made to go the last stretch alone deepened my doubts.

He smiled. 'No, I haven't been there yet. It is not my time. But you'll be able to answer your own questions when you reach.'

That was helpful.

'Well then,' he said. 'Are you both ready?'

'Absolutely!' she screamed with excitement, took my hand and pulled me down the forest trail.

'I hope you find what you're seeking!' the guide called out from behind.

And soon, the hum of engines was drowned by the silence of the wild.

. . .

I hadn't asked her why exactly she had insisted on this trip.

'Why this remote village? Why not the Eiffel Tower, the Grand Canyon or the Alps for that matter?' I would ask her.

'Because, you'll-be-able-to-answer-your-own-questions-once-you-reach', she would remark.

I knew she had her reasons to put her faith in the village to have what she sought. In turn I put my faith in her; her instincts were rarely proved wrong. Moreover, I trusted her and so did she. She believed that I was the only one who could make this journey essentially complete for her. I knew that a person in her circumstance wouldn't make anything but quintessentially ideal choices.