After spending over eight months at home, I desperately needed a change. I was done working from the same table, sitting on the same chair, and falling asleep in the same bed. My days had become a loop of monotony, confined to my bedroom and study room. It was time to break out of the bubble. I wanted a fresh perspective, a new city, a new environment, just to shake things up a bit.
When the question of location came up, Bhopal or somewhere else, I took a couple of days to decide. Strangely, I chose Bhopal, even though I was itching for change. Why? The past few months had been rough on me, but they hadn’t been easy for my parents either. I had been in my zone, struggling and not the easiest person to be around, while they carried the weight of their own silent worries. It felt only fair to spend more time with them now, in a lighter, less tense phase. Choosing Bhopal wasn’t about career ambitions; it was about being present in a way that felt right.
Taking a Leap: From Bhopal to Noida
But life, as it loves to do, had its own plans. A month later, I was asked to join the central office. The twist? The city was Noida. Of all places. The city I had always sworn to avoid because of its pollution and its less-than-stellar reputation for safety, especially for women. It felt like fate had a cheeky sense of humor, but there I was, packing my bags for Noida in September.
In just 15 days, I managed to find a place to stay, a small, individual room that serves its purpose. The details of the living arrangement don’t really matter, but the essence of a city does. Noida, like much of Delhi NCR, doesn’t have a singular culture to boast of. Instead, it’s a melting pot where people and cultures are accepted, but not without their own set of unwritten terms and conditions.
Sometimes, the places we don’t choose for ourselves end up adding unexpected layers to our journey. Noida might not have been my first pick, but maybe it’s exactly where I’m meant to be right now.
Steps of Faith and Gratitude
Back in June, I had booked the Kuari Pass trek for November. My thought process was simple: if I had a job by then, great—this would be a much-needed break. If I didn’t, well, I’d have all the more reason to head out. By the time November rolled around, life had changed in many ways, and I found myself joining a group of 26 strangers for the trek, organized by the wonderful folks at India Hikes.
Solo trips are familiar territory for me. I’ve traveled alone before, relished my own company, mastered the art of eating solo, and even made a ritual out of enjoying tea by myself. But this? A seven-day trek with 26 unfamiliar faces was something else entirely.
Kuari Pass was my second Himalayan trek. The first was Kedarkantha, an experience so overwhelming that I couldn’t even put it into words. I was awestruck, moved to tears, and brimming with gratitude. With Kuari Pass, the feelings were much the same: gratitude, faith, and an overwhelming sense of being connected to something greater.
Why Do I Trek?
Yes, the beauty of the mountains, the serenity, and the sense of achievement are reasons enough to go on treks. But for me, there’s something deeper—meeting Shiva.
In the rush of daily life, it’s not always easy to find the space and time to truly connect with him. Between waking up, running to work, and collapsing into bed, I try to keep that dialogue alive. I talk to him, share my thoughts, and acknowledge his presence, but it never feels quite enough.
Treks give me that space. Every step I take, every mountain I climb, every flower I stop to admire—it feels like he’s there with me, embracing me in his own way. And this time, for the first time, I witnessed the moon rising amidst a starry night. It felt surreal, like Shiva cutting through all my doubts, quietly saying, “I see you.” Oh yes, I need validation—always! But hey, when it comes from the moonlit sky, it feels oddly profound.
At the end of each trek day, tired yet fulfilled, I feel a renewed sense of faith and hope. It’s humbling, grounding, and, honestly, the reason I keep going back to the mountains. There’s no other force that drives me like this, and I’m quietly proud of that.
Back to Reality
Mid-November, I returned to Noida, carrying with me the memories of Kuari Pass and all the emotions it brought. This trek, like the year itself, was a mix of challenges, beauty, and lessons. It kept me alive, grounded, and believing in the process.
In my 2023 blog, I had written, “2024, please don’t teach me any more lessons.” Well, the universe clearly didn’t get the memo. So, for now, I’ll simply sign off with hope and gratitude for what’s ahead.
Welcome 2025!