The privilege of being lost…

“Nanya, uuth chal. Gai cha vasra sarkha tunn kan udi marun uuth.” It was Baba at his gentle best at five in the morning. He would try waking me up one more time and if he sensed even a hint of reluctance, he wouldn’t try the third time and instead go alone. The trouble was, the rest of the day would result in me avoiding his gaze altogether, for though he never spoke about it but made his displeasure amply clear with his expressions and suffice to say it was not the most pleasant thing I experienced as a child.

I didn’t mind trekking up the mountain, in fact I enjoyed it. I loved the outdoors and the exercise; it was the early wakeup call which I didn’t particularly look forward to. My task on most Sundays was to get up in time, get ready and walk up to the bus stop before 5:30 am to board the route-50 bus. It was particularly in winter that things got unpleasant to put it mildly. It took about half an hour for the bus to cover the journey and invariably I used to doze off midway.

The first few minutes of the walk was adjusting to the temperature. Winter or summer, the early morning temperature in the hills was always cool. The first gradient from the bus stop to where the trail began was a quite steep and those few minutes were enough to warm me up. Me and Baba, did the trek on numerous occasions and even as a twelve-year-old, I had pretty much mastered the route. I knew where to pace, where to slow down, which section was tough and which was gentle.

On the way up, there always used to be familiar faces who raced past us and took the slightly tougher straighter route. Baba always walked with a steady pace and took the longer winding route. Baba gave me two simple mantras, first, pace such that you never have to breathe through your mouth, only through the nostrils and second, pace such that you don’t exhaust yourself and are tempted to sit, stand still for a moment if you must, but otherwise keep walking with a steady pace. We must have trekked together easily over a hundred times and not once do I remember being exhausted or having cramps.

It was one such pleasant Sunday when we reached a point which offered two trails. The winding one which Baba always opted for and the slightly steep straighter one which leaner, fitter people used to take. On a whim I asked Baba if we could take the faster route. “Go that way if you wish to and I will be alongside on my usual trail. Just keep your nose up towards the tower and you will be fine” he said. We drifted off and I took the first few steps confidently. For a few meters the trail was clear before it got a bit lost in the grass and bushes. I kept walking straight and after a few moments could see the tower ahead.

Another few minutes and the thicket made things difficult and in no time a sudden rush of fear or the anxiety of being all alone in the wilderness engulfed me. My heart was racing and I was unable to decide whether to keep moving forward or go back. Also, since the tower was not visible, I lost the general sense of direction and didn’t know if what I thought was straight up, indeed was or taking me deeper in the forest. No longer able to overcome this sudden sense of being lost, I called out loud, “Baba…”

And sure enough he responded, “Kay re…” The sound came from the left and was not too far. I was relived and without realising started crying and said, “Mala wagh distoy”. He responded with a calm, “ye ikde” and I started walking towards his voice, pushing past the thick foliage. He was barely 8-9 meters away and in no time I emerged on the main trail and ran into his arms. He wrapped his arms around me and the fear was gone. Barely able to conceal his amusement, he asked, “wagh disat hota?”. Well, I couldn’t explain it but he got it anyway.

As I look back, from the moment we parted ways till we met again, it was a matter of few minutes but back then those few minutes and particularly the few seconds of confusion and fear felt much longer. Needless to say, being in his arms was the safest place. Oh, and in my defence, the valley did have presence of leopards. That I felt like I saw one was my fear manifesting but a twelve-year-old can see things and it is understandable.

Anyway, leopard or no leopard, we carried on with the trek and made it to the top in an hour, our usual pace. Having a meal in one of the shacks on the top was a rarity but that day little Nanya deserved a treat for he had been brave, briefly, but brave. After the snack we went up to the west end and it was very windy. It took strength to walk against the wind and I pictured myself being Jackie Chan from Armour of God. At the wind point I buried myself in Baba’s jacket and realised not only was it the safest place, it was the warmest.

We returned home around noon a bit tired but invigorated with the way the trek turned out. This is one of the many moments we shared together on the mountain. Today after all these years I look back at the incident with amazement. As a father, would I allow my daughter to walk on a trail alone in the wilderness? I may have a thousand justifications for my unwillingness, but back then Baba allowed me to, not only allowed me to, he encouraged me. That he knew that he was around and had things under control is in hindsight.

Most of our life is mundane. I have often felt this, the most profound experiences, whether we get the full grasp of it or not while we are living them is another thing, but most profound experiences are short. They happen quickly. Life does not teach you in long form; it slips little things your way and consciously or unconsciously we learn.

Baba had a risk appetite much greater than the average person, those who know him know this. Most of us prioritise safety and while it’s not wrong, particularly given the changed social circumstances, offering ourselves and our loved ones the freedom to being briefly lost is something we must embrace. And much like Baba, if we are around, close enough, so that those who feel lost could run back to us, then I guess that’s a trick well executed.

Here’s a line that I came across which pretty much sums up the experience. Think about it and get lost once in a while.     

Being lost is a great privilege, because you are not on a chain – Sadhguru Jaggi Vasudev