A whiff of Nepal blues.

A troupe of school-kids came frolicking down the slippery stone steps as we dragged our weary feet along, gasping for air. The weight of the rucksacks tried its best to bend our shoulders further. Exhaustion descended on our limbs and sweat drops burst out on the pores of our skin, and mixed with the glistening raindrops. But the fresh air which wafted inside our lungs charged up our energy tanks to push through this challenge looking right into our eyes.

As we reached our destined home stay to spend the night, we unlatched the burden form our weary backs with a sigh of glory. We hung our wet ponchos on the window railings and kicked off our shoes. Then our rumbling stomachs reverberated along the wooden walls and floors as we fell like immobile logs on our assigned beds, wrapping the soft woolen blankets around our shoulders.

Then the ever-welcoming aroma of freshly steamed momos made our tummies grumble a little more and lured us into the dining room. We gobbled up the heavenly dumplings, some carelessly like hungry demons, while some with precision and ease, honoring the food that we had been blessed with.

With perfectly round tummies accentuated against the smooth fabric of our sweat shirts, our satisfied faces looked up at our host family who had fed us, like we owe our lives to them.

We proceeded to our room and an uproar of laughter with giggles followed. Lying on our backs on warm and thick bed sheets and staring up at the ceiling fitted with wide wooden planks, we found our hearts yearning for more escapades and realized the need for this freedom from city life. Then tired eyes began to droop, and we fell into a deep slumber, letting ourselves get engulfed by the mountains in the world of dreams.

This was a mild taste of our Chintaphu trek in Nepal, June 2018.

P.S. – The photos given hadn’t been captured by me, but a highly talented photographer among us.