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Mountains, Nihilism, and Us
This post was in the draft mode for a month and today is when I mustered enough energy to edit and publish it.
During usual years, months pass without batting an eyelid but once in a while, there are years which contain months that are glaringly and conspicuously outlandish. We might be amidst one such delinquent danse macabre that is decimating and bogging us down. Eventually, the fight will be won but the price will be paid.
A lot has transpired in past two months and trust me you don’t need one more article by an armchair epidemiologist who is sitting in a nook of his room hitting the keyboard with glove adorned hands and carries an opinion on everything in the universe.
I spent a larger part of last month in the Himalayas before being quarantined and then locked down in my parent’s house for observing social distance. The time spent in the Himalayas was strange if not entirely mind-boggling. While trekking or just loitering around in the mountains, one perplexing and recurring thought visiting my grey cells like an uninvited guest was whether am I the first person touching this stone? There are billions of rocks around me, not each one of them could be touched by a human one time or the other; Am I the first one touching it? If so, then how old this rock is? How many centuries it has witnessed? How many civilisations must have decimated and…
