Three Parts of a River - Middle

I am a fierce competitor. I also lose a lot. Games have been a gateway to opening up my world to meet new people and forge unforgettable bonds. I believe that play is a state when you utterly lose yourself while also bringing out your most interior personality. It pits us in competition with our weaknesses and others' strengths. It also makes us cooperate with others in the most 'unhinged' way possible - when it's win or lose, my greatest enemy could also be my friend. LOL. (pls note: I do not advocate for violence. I'm not that much of an aggressive person. I am relatively sweet, if you ask my friends. Except when it comes to playing a game. Haha. *evil snickers*)

I've played many games with Saurabh. Lost most of them. (The most embarrassing one was a college volleyball match, which to this day my friends keep reminding me of.)

That weekend in Rishikesh, there was a lot of time on our hands, and it was easy to get bored. Games kept us company. Chilling in the balcony after dinner that day, I played some Stick Cricket which I was introduced to by my eight year old cousin. Then I had a match duel with Saurabh, and I'm pretty sure I almost won.

The next morning was a rainy one. We spent it in the hostel dining place socialising with some of the other travellers. Then some lost rounds of foosball after which the caretaker joined in as my teammate and we defeated Saurabh together. I had initially thought of working for some time in the morning and going on a stroll to the river in the evening after a nice afternoon nap. The minute I opened my laptop and tried to focus, sleep clouded my face and my afternoon nap got preponed to the morning. After incessantly worrying about my deadline, I decided to sleep at ten in the morning after a filling breakfast. Saurabh followed suit. Anyone who has travelled with me knows how I take breaks from a vacation on a vacation. I tend to fall asleep anywhere; be it the misty hills of Darjeeling with a splendid mountain view or the foothills of a riverside town like Rishikesh overlooking the Ganga.

A clear blue sky after the rain.

After waking up from a long satisfying sleep, we got ready and marched for lunch. The clouds had cleared up and revealed a pearly blue clear sky. In upper Tapovan, there were many roads descending downhill towards the river bank. Each pathway was intriguing. We randomly decided to follow a path and the bank turned out to be a spacious clear patch of white river sand that almost reminded me of a seashore. There was a small make do hut that housed a teashop and some snacks. It was sunset hour. Some more time spent in silence. Drinking some chai, looking at the sky, the river, the mountains, the temple on the other side of the river bank, the twin bridges in the distance, and a single pebble that obstructed the flow of the water. Murmuring something.

At the riverbank.

The silt at the water line was almost like quicksand. We hopped across some pale white rocks that were as smooth as the sand. Then, another game. Any body of water I find, I attempt to skip stones. I love watching the heavy stones bounce upon the water trying to stay on the surface, before it sinks. The circular ripples it creates marking its presence. Perhaps a strong image that stayed in my head after reading 'The Immortals of Meluha', a childhood craze, was the scene of Shiva, a tribal nomad being extremely skilled at skipping stones.

Lost in thought.

There is something about the Himalayas that presents itself with a raw allure that I try to grasp every time I visit. In Rishikesh, the Ganga adds to the splendour and merges with the mountain to impose its compassionate presence. There cannot be a more fitting metaphor than the iconic image of Ganga flowing from the dreadlocks of Shiva. The mountains encapsulate the twisted ridges and valleys resembling matted dreadlocks and the river winds through the topography carving it's own pathway eroding the massive mountain bit by bit. Which is more powerful? The mountain or the river? Perhaps it is the little pebble that gets tossed and turned about, that rolls downstream frivolously frolicking until it reaches the river bank. A small pebble that obstructs the flow. Murmuring something.

Dusk was falling, and we started walking towards the hostel - a steep uphill climb that seemed quite easy. We reached the main road quickly and winded the day with some cold desserts and refreshing beverages. Mine, a ten rupee Choco bar ice cream and Saurabh's, an overpriced 100 rupee orange juice mistakenly bought at the cafe that looked dull from the outside but fancy on the inside.

(to be continued)