By Debashrita Roy
The last step before a million more start, I look up at the cobalt blue sky that is undimmed by the giant glowing star.
Embraced by the green vines, red shrubberies, greyed stones and the caressing arms of the gigantic mountains.
Each foot forward now parodies a huge leap, breaths becoming more pronounced as the shallowness of the air and the gravity of the sights intervene.
A pleasant wind tunes in from the mountain high, caressing my skin, sending a shiver to my core and jumping the heart up to release a sigh.
Just like a stage, the curtain changes again, covering the sun now, into hues that are a deep contrast.
Fog becomes a friend, whispering encouragement, and maybe laughing a little at every misstep.
I raise the bottle to my lips, icy cold water cruising down my throat, like an icicle on an urgent errand.
I stick my walking pole on the ground and wade along with the fog over the brown trail peppered with rocks.
My giant friends play truant with me, appearing for a gist and then covering their facade behind the cloud and the mist.
Their sight on me is the company I miss.
Have they noticed how far I have come?
How surer my footing has now become and if my labored breath is less pronounced?
A turn around the steep corner, and lo and behold, a gap in the cloud appears!
And springs the appearance of half an edifice.
Oh! the snow-capped shears.
I see the grave faces again judging my speed but encouraging my flight and then there appears the little hamlet as well, my home abode for the sweet night.
A silent prayer by the flying flags and a bow to the mighty. Companions who look over me, their grandeur and grace.
The effervescent cloudy cape, the graveness of the rough cut face broken by the levity of the ever-changing scenery.
For tomorrow will be a different day, engulfed with the same friends but an unfamiliar sight.
The cold will be bitter but the warmth of the embrace will thaw the heart and make the trek ahead just a little more light.